In Matthew Arnold's poem “The Scholar-Gypsy,” the speaker tells the tale of a mysterious man who left his studies at Oxford to travel with the gypsies and learn their arts. The speaker imagines that he has seen the scholar-gypsy as the latter makes his rounds through the countryside, and he describes the many others who have seemed to catch a glimpse of this elusive man as well.

Even the blackbird knows the scholar-gypsy. The bird is eating as the scholar approaches. It sees him, yet it does not pause in its meal. The bird does not fear the man, for it has seen him pass many times before and knows that the man will not hurt it. It merely continues to eat as the man passes by, twirling a “wither'd spray” in his hand.

This little incident reveals how much the scholar-gypsy is in tune with nature. Most birds fly away at once at the approach of a human, for they are naturally fearful. Even if they are immersed in their food, they will startle and flee. Yet this blackbird does not, and the difference is not in the bird but in the man. The scholar-gypsy is one with the natural world. He is such a part of it that other creatures have accepted him as one of themselves. Therefore, the bird merely glances and continues to eat as the man passes by, for the man is kin to the bird, and the bird knows it.