Here are the 'songs to spring', John Keats, I say. 'They are here' in blossoms bright and fresh, with 'rosy hue' as the song thrush sings in joyful choir.
We delighted in the call of woodpigeons and chiff-chaffs, the chorus of blackbird, song thrush, robin and dunnock. Occasionally we would just stop, stand still and listen
