The Nation's Favourite Animal Poems, foreword by Virginia McKenna (BBC Worldwide, £5.99)

THE only major flaw in this charming collection is evident after a cursory examination.

It's this. Why was the great nature poet W H Davies not included in this anthology? How can a work with such a grandiose, assured title not feature The Kingfisher, arguably the most evocative and shameless love letter ever written?

Sorry. But Davies was the Master and his absence is conspicuous from these otherwise pristine pages of poetry.

Otherwise, the majority of writers who loved the natural world grace this volume with their noble presence. There's poor, tortured John Clare, the peasant boy from Northamptonshire who bares his heart with tales of Brock Badger and the timid hare, languishing in a landscape that has now all-but vanished.

Thomas Hardy marvels at the beauty of birdsong on a winter's day in The Darkling Thrush while D H Lawrence rants against a troublesome insect in Mosquito.

And our good friend Wordsworth, he who famously said that Nature never betrayed the heart that loved her, is also there in good measure.

But no W H Davies. Maybe next time.

John Phillpott.

The Nation's Favourite Animal Poems, foreword by Virginia McKenna (BBC Worldwide, £5.99)

THE only major flaw in this charming collection is evident after a cursory examination.

It's this. Why was the great nature poet W H Davies not included in this anthology? How can a work with such a grandiose, assured title not feature The Kingfisher, arguably the most evocative and shameless love letter ever written?

Sorry. But Davies was the Master and his absence is conspicuous from these otherwise pristine pages of poetry.

Otherwise, the majority of writers who loved the natural world grace this volume with their noble presence. There's poor, tortured John Clare, the peasant boy from Northamptonshire who bares his heart with tales of Brock Badger and the timid hare, languishing in a landscape that has now all-but vanished.

Thomas Hardy marvels at the beauty of birdsong on a winter's day in The Darkling Thrush while D H Lawrence rants against a troublesome insect in Mosquito.

And our good friend Wordsworth, he who famously said that "Nature never betrayed the heart that loved her", is also there in good measure.

But no W H Davies. Maybe next time.

John Phillpott.