. A year with the birds . he entrance is too spacious;From her throat loud scoldings pour. For her skill, and her devotion To her growing admire her; and without her Quite bereft our spring would be. 113 The Oven-Bird or Gold-Crowned Thrush Where the Veery breathes through organ-pipes And the Wood Thrush plays a flute,Where Hermit Thrushes psalms intoned At sunset, hold us mute;Where the Red-eyed Vireo preaches long. As though, like Pharisee,For his much-speaking hell be heard,— Exhorting fervently,—Another dweller of the woods Pleads like the tireless ,— Teac
. A year with the birds . he entrance is too spacious;From her throat loud scoldings pour. For her skill, and her devotion To her growing admire her; and without her Quite bereft our spring would be. 113 The Oven-Bird or Gold-Crowned Thrush Where the Veery breathes through organ-pipes And the Wood Thrush plays a flute,Where Hermit Thrushes psalms intoned At sunset, hold us mute;Where the Red-eyed Vireo preaches long. As though, like Pharisee,For his much-speaking hell be heard,— Exhorting fervently,—Another dweller of the woods Pleads like the tireless ,— Teacher— Teacher— Teacher—TEACHER—TEACHER! He, gold-crowned thrush, eludes our gaze; But wheresoeer we stray,We hear his clear crescendo phrase Now near, now far woodland warblers! Hear them say, Search all the forest it will prove a treasure-house. With riches to discoverWhich last as long as life itself! This place of mysteryMakes wondrous revelations Of Gods power and majesty. A. E. B. 114. OVEN-BIRD The Oven-Bird In the hollows of the mountains,In the valleys spreading from them,Stand the rustling broad-leaved forests,Trees whose leaves are shed in autumn. Underneath them lie the leaf bedsResting one upon anotherLaid there yearly by the storm winds;Pressed and smoothed by winter snow-drifts. In the days of spring migrations, Days when warbler hosts move northward, To the forests, to the leaf-beds, Comes the tiny oven-builder. Daintily the leaves he tiptoes; Underneath them builds his oven. Arched and framed with last years oak-leaves, Roofed and walled against the raindrops. Hour by hour his voice he with the red-eyes to the hermits anthem;Rising—falling, like a wind breath. Strange, ventriloquous his away when close beside one;Near at hand when seeming distant;Weird—his plaintive accrescendo. 116 Teach us! Teach us! in his asking,Uttered to the Omnipresent:Teach us! teach us! comes responsiveFro
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1917
