The One in Red Cravat - A Collection of Poems in Ode to the Robin Redbreast - Various
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¿The One in Red Cravat¿ is a delightful poetry collection containing a selection of classic poems about robins, written by various authors including William Wordsworth, John Clare, William Cowper, and many others. Coupled with beautiful colour illustrations by various classic artists, this book aims to celebrate our feathery friend, the Robin Redbreast. Featured often in British Romantic poetry and nature poetry in general, the Robin is a symbol of spring song and good fortune, often representing growth, renewal, passion, or change. The perfect gift for birdwatchers, twitchers and poetry…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
¿The One in Red Cravat¿ is a delightful poetry collection containing a selection of classic poems about robins, written by various authors including William Wordsworth, John Clare, William Cowper, and many others. Coupled with beautiful colour illustrations by various classic artists, this book aims to celebrate our feathery friend, the Robin Redbreast. Featured often in British Romantic poetry and nature poetry in general, the Robin is a symbol of spring song and good fortune, often representing growth, renewal, passion, or change. The perfect gift for birdwatchers, twitchers and poetry lovers who like to read out in the wilds. Contents include: ¿Birds and Poets, an Essay by John Burroughs¿, ¿The Redbreast, by John Cotton¿, ¿The Petition of the Red-Breast, by William Roscoe¿, ¿Epitaph on a Free but Tame Redbreast, by William Cowper¿, ¿Invitation to the Redbreast, by William Cowper¿, ¿The Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly, by William Wordsworth¿, ¿Robin Redbreast, by George Washington Doane¿, ¿To the Robin, by Charles Tennyson Turner¿, ¿The Autumn Robin, by John Clare¿, ¿To a Redbreast, by Hannah Flagg Gould¿, etc. Ragged Hand is proud to be publishing this brand new collection of classic poetry now for the enjoyment of bird lovers young and old.
Autorenporträt
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stocking was hung by the chimney with care, In the that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap;