BOB THE VAGABOND 



full measure of happiness there — mixed with the bob- 

 olink's music of June? 



For Bob comes back to the North again, bringing with 

 him springtime melodies, which poets sing about but no 

 human voice can mimic. Bob, who has dusted the dull 

 tips from his feathers as he flew, and who, garbed for the 

 brightness of our June, makes a joyful sound; for Nature 

 has kept faith with him and brought him safely back to 

 his meadow, though the journey from and to it num- 

 bered eight thousand miles! 



His trail is the open lane of the air, 

 And the winds, they call him everywhere; 

 So he wings him North, dear burbhng Bob, 

 With throat aquiver and heart athrob; 

 And he sings o' jo}- in the month of June 

 Enough to keep the 3'ear in tune. 



Then, when the rolUcking young of his kind 



Yearn for the paths that the vagabonds find. 



He leads them out over loitering ways 



Where the Southland beckons with luring days; 



To wait till the laughter-like lilt of his song 



Is ripe for the North again — missing him long! 



