1S(; TiiK \\"i I.SOX IkTi.i.K'nx, X(). 72-73. 



of the golden song of the boboHnk. Then joined the chorus 

 the full-voiced melody of a farmer calling his swine. And 

 the day was begun. 



Ada, Ohio. Wheeler McMillen. 



THE BOBOLINK. 



The metallic tink of the bobolink, 



As he passes o'er at night. 

 Is the signal gong of the coming throng, 



In their long-continued flight, 

 From the tropical rains of Brazilian plains 



To their northern nesting site. 



The manifold charms of buckeye farms 



Have drawn him away from the land 

 Of beautiful flowers and verdant bowers 



That were built by the unseen hand. 

 Soon, the fairy god's dart will pierce his gay heart, 



And his little brown mate and he 

 Will build them a home, a glorious throne. 



In a king'dom of musical glee. 



In rapture he sings and the meadow-land rings 



With a medley of golden notes : 

 They flow from his throat and onward they float 



Like a fleet of seolian boats. 

 They tunefully tinkle as their melodies sprinkle 



O'er the landscape far and near ; 

 They jauntily jingle as they merrily mingle 



With the summer atmosphere. 

 In sunshine or rain, ever free from all pain. 



He pours forth his rhapsodies. 

 Over meadow and field, where with lips unsealed, 



The daisies are kissed by the breeze. 

 Ada, Ohio. — Wheeler McMillen. 



