"Nay, little damsel! away I'll fly To greener fields and warmer sky; "Little bird! little bird! who'll guide thee Over the hills and over the sea? Foolish one! come in the house to stay, Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me I will be free as the rushing air, THE ORIOLES. FOUR little mouths agape for ever; Four little throats which are never full; Four little nestlings, who dissever One big worm, by a mighty pull. Up on a limb the lazy fellow ! Perches the father, bold and gay, Close at their side, the watchful mother, Four little mouths in time grow smaller, Four little nestlings quite appall her, Spreading their wings for the sun to gild. Lazy no longer sits the father, — His is the care of the singing-school; Singing away on the shaken branches, Four little beaks their mouths embolden, Four little throats are round and strong; Four little nestlings, fledged and golden, Graduate in the world of song. A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW. QUOTH the boy, "I'll climb that tree, Quoth the boy, "My senses whirl ; Of the wisdom of a girl, Or the feelings of a bird! Tell me what you reckon on Quoth the girl, "I watch them talk, And the little Robin-bird (Nice brown back and crimson breast) Sitting trembling in his nest. "What a world," he cried, "of bliss- Blithe we'd answer to their call ; Boys were ever made at all." I'VE plucked the berry from the bush, the brown nut from the tree, I saw them in their curious nests, close couching, slyly peer near; I passed them by, and blessed them all; I felt that it was good To leave unmoved the creatures small whose home was in the wood. And here, even now, above my head, a lusty rogue doth sing, Sing on, sing on, blithe bird! and fill my heart with summer glad ness, It has been aching many a day with measures full of sadness! William Motherwell. THE SANDPIPER. ACROSS the lonely beach we flit, The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry. The wild waves reach their hands for it, As The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, up and down the beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I. Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud, black and swift, across the sky; I see the close-reefed vessels fly, I watch him as he skims along, Nor flash of fluttering drapery. He has no thought of any wrong, He scans me with a fearless eye; Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, Celia Thaxter. THE SORROWFUL SEA-GULL. THE sea-gull is so sorry! She flings herself about, And utters little, wailing cries, And flutters in and out. The fishes do not sympathize, Fish are so very cool! They make so many rules, you know; They have a rule for swimming, They have a rule for pleasure trips, And people who make rules like that May drive, and work, and swim, But never know how sweet a thing It is to take a whim! |