From "Bird-Lore," by permission of The Macmillan Company.
TO A SKYLARK.
(EXTRACT.)
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest,
Like a cloud of fire,
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now!
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
FRIGHTENED BIRDS.
"Hush, hush!" said a little brown thrush
To his mate on the nest in the elder-bush.
"Keep still! Don't open your bill!
There's a boy coming bird-nesting over the hill!
Let your wings out, so
That not an egg or the nest shall show.
Chee! Chee! It seems to me
I'm as frightened as ever a bird can be!"
Then, still, with a quivering bill,
He watched the boy out of sight o'er the hill.
Ah, then in the branches again,
His glad song ran over vale and glen.
Oh, oh! if that boy could know
How glad they were when they saw him go,
Say, say, do you think next day
He could possibly steal those eggs away?
ANON.
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