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THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



Woodland 

 Thrush 



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*#v 



Dweller in coolest woodland bowers ; 

 Spokesman for timid wildwood flowers ; 

 Knower of what the ferns would say, 

 And darksome pines as they sigh and sway 

 These rind in you when darkness fades, 

 Yet lingers in their woodland shades, 

 The poet of their mute appeal, 

 A voice for all they strangely feel. 



And in your later anthem, lo, 



Are glories of a sunset-glow 



Which touch your song with wizard fire 



And link your voice with an unseen choir. 



When, hushed, the dimlit-vernal wood 



Seems rapt, as in a prayerful mood, 



And dewy censer scent of flower 



Hallows the stilly vesper hour, 



Gently, softly you touch the strings, — 



Timid, throbbing, soulful things; 



Can e'en you feel you are but dust, 



