Judith Wright

Here you will find the Poem Lyrebirds of poet Judith Wright


Over the west side of the mountain, 
that?s lyrebird country. 
I could go down there, they say, in the early morning, 
and I?d see them, I?d hear them. 

Ten years, and I have never gone. 
I?ll never go. 
I?ll never see the lyrebirds - 
the few, the shy, the fabulous, 
the dying poets. 

I should see them, if I lay there in the dew: 
first a single movement 
like a waterdrop falling, then stillness, 
then a brown head, brown eyes, 
a splendid bird, bearing 
like a crest the symbol of his art, 
the high symmetrical shape of the perfect lyre. 
I should hear that master practising his art. 

No, I have never gone. 
Some things ought to be left secret, alone; 
some things ? birds like walking fables ? 
ought to inhabit nowhere but the reverence of the