A Book on Birds 



But, most, the great gladness of spring at the flood, 

 The quickening gladness one feels in the blood. 



So, nearer and nearer I drew, loth to go 

 Unacquaint with my minstrel, still singing; when, lo, 



(Mirahile didu!) the bird seemed to talk, 



Saying, ''How-dy-do, friend! — you are out for a walk 



''And can't guess who I am — that is easy to trace 

 From the puzzled expression all over your face. 



"I'm a little far north, I'll admit; just the same 

 A field-lover, like you, should at once know my name. 



''Here's a strain with a somersault in it, or two, 

 Pray, tell me, sir, don't that suggest it to you? — 



"Or this, with a movement so much to my taste 

 I sing it both backward and forward, nor waste 



"A note or a syllable doing it — see? 

 There — I've mentioned my name, and you missed 

 it — ah me! 



"But I'll give you just one warble more, while you 



think; — 

 Ho, you've hit it at last! — au revoir! — Bobolink!" 



[82] 



