A Book on Birds 



for north and south, and to the eastward 

 where the ocean Hes afar, they are arrayed 

 just now in one rich covering of dande- 

 hons and clover. 



Behind me, toward the west, billows 

 of perfume sweep by and pass beyond, 

 from an apple-orchard of a hundred trees, 

 each one of which is a mass of scented 

 bloom. 



And ever in the foreground, flitting 

 from meadow to blossoms — where Wood 

 Warblers are feeding — and back again, the 

 Bobohnk keeps his gladdest holiday of 

 all the year, his last before nest-building, 

 while still the cares of life have not begun, 

 and he has naught to do but feed and fly 

 and ease himself of the music in his soul. 



And how wild with joy he is! How 

 utterly carried away with the softly-swell- 

 ing tide of spring, spring, spring! He 

 cannot shut off for a single moment the 

 fountain of sparkling sound that leaps 

 and spurts and gurgles from his breast; 

 but, filled with exuberant ecstasy, lets it 

 flow right on, whether he is standing, half- 



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