Author Harold Monro The stars must make an awful noise In whirling round the sky; Yet somehow I can't even hear Their loudest song or sigh. So it is wonderful to think One blackbird can outsing The voice of all the swarming stars On any day in spring. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 4 (1 vote) Rate Log in or register to post comments