. A year with the birds . the bent sprays edge,-Thats the wise thrush. Browning This is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure,Ere the high treetop she clung to, Fit for her nest and her treasure. Oh, what a hope beyond measureWas the poor sprays, which the flying feet hung to-So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! Browning: From Misconceptions 119 The Brown Thrasher He sings each song twice over,Lest you should think he never could recaptureThat first fine careless rapture! Browning Darting about in the thickets, His red-brown coat to veil,Foraging there amongst dead
. A year with the birds . the bent sprays edge,-Thats the wise thrush. Browning This is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure,Ere the high treetop she clung to, Fit for her nest and her treasure. Oh, what a hope beyond measureWas the poor sprays, which the flying feet hung to-So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! Browning: From Misconceptions 119 The Brown Thrasher He sings each song twice over,Lest you should think he never could recaptureThat first fine careless rapture! Browning Darting about in the thickets, His red-brown coat to veil,Foraging there amongst dead leaves. Thrashing his long brown tail;Perching aloft in the treetops. Where all may hear and see,Carols the bright Brown Thrasher, Long and melodiously. Listen, 0 listen! hes saying; Glisten, 0 glisten, you Brook!The sweet warm showers have beguiled the flowers; 0 look! dear children, look!The golden sun is shining. The earth is in gay array;The world is rife with a wealth of life! Tis May, fair winsome May! A. E. B. 120. liMV BROWN THRASHER The Throstle (The song of the English throstle or thrush resemblesthat of our thrasher). Summer is coming, summer is coming, I know it, I know it, I know again, leaf again, life again, love again! Yes, my wild little Poet. Sing the new year in under the blue. Last year you sang it as , new, new, new! Is it then so new That you should carol so madly? Love again, song again, nest again, young again, Never a prophet so crazy!And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend. See, there is hardly a daisy. Here again, here, here, here, happy year! 0 warble unchidden, unbidden!Summer is coming, is coming, my dear. And all the winters are hidden. Tennyson And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!He, too, is no mean preacher:Come forth into the light of Nature be your Teacher. Wordsworth 121 The Catbird Gay and restless are the catbirds, Moving tails incessantly;Spreading them like vainest peacocks, Preening feathers jauntily.
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License: Licensed
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1916
