. Through the year with birds and poets [poems]; . isher ! She rears her young on yonder tree; She leaves her faithful mate to mind em ;Like us, for fish she sails to sea. And, plunging, shows us where to find , ho, my hearts ! lets seek the every oar, and cheerly wish slow the bending net we sweep, . God bless the Fish hawk and the fisher ! Alexander Wilson. WITH BIRDS AND POETS 45 THE CROW Then it is a distant cawing,Growing louder — coming nearer,Tells of crows returning inlandFrom their winter on the marshes. Iridescent is their plumage. Loud their voices, bold thei
. Through the year with birds and poets [poems]; . isher ! She rears her young on yonder tree; She leaves her faithful mate to mind em ;Like us, for fish she sails to sea. And, plunging, shows us where to find , ho, my hearts ! lets seek the every oar, and cheerly wish slow the bending net we sweep, . God bless the Fish hawk and the fisher ! Alexander Wilson. WITH BIRDS AND POETS 45 THE CROW Then it is a distant cawing,Growing louder — coming nearer,Tells of crows returning inlandFrom their winter on the marshes. Iridescent is their plumage. Loud their voices, bold their clamor. In the pools and shallows wading; Or in overflowing meadows Searching for the waste of winter — Scraps and berries freed by thawing. Weird their notes, and hoarse their croaking; Silent only when the night comes. Frank Bolles. Over the tree-tops yonder flies a crow That boldly vents his unpopular caw. And breasts the stubborn wind to gain the shore, And cram his crop with what the tide brings in. A Morning Pastoral. — HENRY APRIL Only once more tofeelthe coming the birds feel it when it bids them sing. Agassiz.—James Russell Lowell. Bid the little homely sparrows. Chirping in the cold and impatient, sweet complaining. Sing out from their hearts them set themselves to mating. Cooing love in softest their nests, all cold and empty. Full of little callow birds. An April Welcome. — Phoebe Carv. Sparrows far off, and nearer, ApriPs , flying before from tree to sing a delicate overtureTo lead the tardy concert of the year. Musketaquid. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 48 WITH BIRDS AND POETS 49 WILD GEESE A far, strange sound through the night, A dauntless and resolute in the tempests despite, Ringing so wild and so high. Darkness and tumult and dread. Rain and the battling of cleaving the storm overhead. The wedge of the wild geese sails. Pushing their perilous way, Bui
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