Catbird 



The pussy-cat bird has the blackest of bills, 

 With which she makes all of her trebles and trills: 

 She can mimic a robin or sing like a wren, 

 And I truly believe she can cluck like a hen; 

 And sometimes you dream that her song is a word. 

 Then quickly again — she's a pussy-cat bird. 



The pussy-cat bird wears a gown like a nun, 



But she's chirk as a squirrel and chock-full of fun, 



She lives in a house upon Evergreen Lane, — 



A snug Uttle house, although modest and plain; 



And never a puss that was happier purred 



Than the feathered and winged little pussy-cat bird. 



Clinton Scollard. 



The Cat-Bird 



Through the night and through the day 

 Runs a babbling brook away, 

 'Neath the hill and to the river 

 Through the pasture, on forever. 

 Shadowy plajnnates still I see. 

 Rivalling the brooklet's glee; 

 And the cat-bird's voice I hear, 

 That so piqued my childhood's ear. 



Saucy, mocking cat-bird 

 On the alder spray, 



Even now I hear thee. 

 Though so far away. 



43 



