. Birds in literature . It to be a voice of love That always had loved softly it rang out above— So wild and wanderingly. O Voice, were you a golden dove. Or just a plain gray bird?O Voice, you are my wandering love, Lost, yet forever heard. * The nine-year-old daughter of the poet Percy MacKaye, Do you neer think what wondrous beings these? Do you neer think who made them, and who taughtThe dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought?Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man eer caught!Whose habitations in the tree-
. Birds in literature . It to be a voice of love That always had loved softly it rang out above— So wild and wanderingly. O Voice, were you a golden dove. Or just a plain gray bird?O Voice, you are my wandering love, Lost, yet forever heard. * The nine-year-old daughter of the poet Percy MacKaye, Do you neer think what wondrous beings these? Do you neer think who made them, and who taughtThe dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought?Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man eer caught!Whose habitations in the tree-tops even Are half-way houses on the road to heaven! Think every morning when the sun peeps through The dim, leaf-latticed windows of the grove,How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old, melodious madrigals of love!And when you think of this, remember too Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore. Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. Longfellow. Birds of BIRDS IN LITERATURE BY ABBY P. CHURCHILL STATE NORMAL SCHOOLFITCHBURG, MASS. y^y^ worcester, Davis Press, Inc. Printers and Publishers1911 CMHv Copyright, 1905By Abby p. Churchill Copyright, 1911By The Davis Press, Inc. SECOND EDITION Introduction ^^^E see with what we are; and what we see is con-es stantly changing us for better or for worse. If welook for ugUness, we see ugUness, and our spiritual growthis abnormal and deformed. If we look for beauty, thebeautiful meets us everjrwhere and transforms our mindsand hearts. The past decade has witnessed an almost unparal-leled turning of men to Nature, seeking refreshment andrenewal through her beauty and her mystery. Men havenot always looked at Nature in this way, nor do all to-day. To primitive man she brought fear and awe andwonder. Many centuries must pass before a Words-worth could declare that Nature never did betray theheart that loved her. And yet from the very beginningmen must have thought of
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