. A year with the birds . GOLDFINCH The Goldfinch Sometimes goldfinches one by one will dropFrom low-hung branches; little space they stopAnd sip and twitter, and their feathers sleek,Then off at once, as in a wanton freak;Or perhaps to show their black and golden upon their yellow flutterings. Keats 149 The Yellow Warbler 0, che-che-che-che-che-a-wee? In treetops winging rapidly, The Summer Yellow-Bird youll see. He wears no tiny cap of black; His wings and tail are green. Hes back In blossom-time when insects breed; He cannot live on hardy seed Like merry Goldfinch. Shy is he;
. A year with the birds . GOLDFINCH The Goldfinch Sometimes goldfinches one by one will dropFrom low-hung branches; little space they stopAnd sip and twitter, and their feathers sleek,Then off at once, as in a wanton freak;Or perhaps to show their black and golden upon their yellow flutterings. Keats 149 The Yellow Warbler 0, che-che-che-che-che-a-wee? In treetops winging rapidly, The Summer Yellow-Bird youll see. He wears no tiny cap of black; His wings and tail are green. Hes back In blossom-time when insects breed; He cannot live on hardy seed Like merry Goldfinch. Shy is he; And sweetly from the apple-tree, Siags: Che - che - che - che - che - a-wee? A. E. B. 150. YELLOW WARBLER 0 joy of life, 0 joy of love! When cloudless skies are blue above, In starry spring! When happy warblers on the wing Do mating build their nests and sing. 0 joy of life! Stuart Sterne 151 *The Maryland Yellow-Throat While May bedecks the naked treesWith tassels and embroideries,And many blue-eyed violets beamAlong the edges of the stream,I hear a voice that seems to say,Now near at hand, now far away,Witchery—^witchery—witchery. An incantation so innocent, befits the scene:Theres magic in that small birds note—See, there he flits—^the Yellow-throat;A living sunbeam, tipped with wings,A spark of light that shines and singsWitchery—witchery—^witchery. Henry van Dyke *NOTE.—Reprinted by permission of Charles Scribners Sons. 153 *The Red-Eyed Vireo Do you hear me? Dont you knowIm the Red-eyed Vireo?After lovely blossoming MayEntices me, the livelong day—Even when the August noonSilences the bards of June—My incessant voice is heard,Till Im called
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1916
