. Our native songsters . il THE YELLOW BUNTING. 251 on our hedges, and whose note, somewhat liarsh asit is, is a familiar sound to all used to the one whose ear was well attuned to all themelodies of nature, could find pleasure in listeningto its song, and find in it a music too. ThusGraham speaks of it— I even love the Yellow Hammers earliest buds begin to bulge, his noteSimple, reiterated oft, is heardOn leafless brier, or half-grown hedgerow tree;Nor does he cease his note till autumns leavesFall fluttering round his golden head so plumaged bird ! cursed by
. Our native songsters . il THE YELLOW BUNTING. 251 on our hedges, and whose note, somewhat liarsh asit is, is a familiar sound to all used to the one whose ear was well attuned to all themelodies of nature, could find pleasure in listeningto its song, and find in it a music too. ThusGraham speaks of it— I even love the Yellow Hammers earliest buds begin to bulge, his noteSimple, reiterated oft, is heardOn leafless brier, or half-grown hedgerow tree;Nor does he cease his note till autumns leavesFall fluttering round his golden head so plumaged bird ! cursed by the causeless hateOf every schoolboy, still by me thy lotWas pitied ! Never did I tear thy nest:I loved thee, pretty bird ! for twas thy nestWhich first, unheli)d by older eyes, I verj spot I think I now behold !Forth from my low-roofd home I wanderd blythe,Down to thy side, sweet Cart, where cross the streamA range of stones, below a shallow ford,Stood in the place of iron-spanning arch ;Up from that ford a
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1853
