Bird Songs after Dark 



as much as any Briton his noble Night- 

 ingale — will he add his tuneful testimony, 

 as we have been told we may expect him to? 



The brooding stillness settles down again. 

 A half-hour goes by. The snugly packed 

 sheaves make a warm and comfortable 

 bed, and we are getting drowsy. When, lo, 

 behold — not the Thrasher indeed — but one 

 more, almost as worthy, our ^^ stringer 

 of pearls^' — the Spizella pusilla — breaks 

 forth, putting Morpheus to flight! 



'^True — true — true! ever true to thee, 

 dear Heart !'^ fall his notes from a branch 

 just where the trees begin; not one bright 

 gem missing, but all of them lovelier for 

 the moonbeams and the eager ear of night. 



And this time doubt diminishes to almost 

 nothing, while expectation rises high. 

 Will the Thrasher verily pour for us his 

 rich libation next? 



The minutes wear on. We half nap 

 awhile, and waken to hear the ^^Peep, peep, 

 peep!'' of the Sandpiper, and the fuller 

 cry of the Killdeer, both exactly as they are 

 during the day. 



[ 131 ] 



