Here you will find the Poem Magpie of poet James Phillip McAuley
The magpie's mood is never surly every morning, wakening early, he gargles music in his throat, the liquid squabble of his throat. Its silver stridencies of sound, the bright confusions and the round bell-cadences are pealed over the frosty, half-ploughed field. Then swooping down self confidently from the fence-post or the tree, he swaggers in pied feather coat, and slips the fat worms down his throat.
