BIRDS PAIRING IN SPRING. 



O the deep woods 



They haste away, all as their fancy leads, 

 Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts ; 

 That nature's great command may be obeyed. 

 Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 

 Indulged in vain. Some to the holly hedge 

 Nestling, repair, and to the thicket, some ; 

 Some to the rude protection of the thorn 

 Commit their feeble offspring ; the cleft tree 

 Offers its kind concealment to a few, 

 Their food its insects, and its moss their nests; 

 Others apart, far in the grassy dale 

 Or roughening waste their humble texture weave; 

 But most in woodland solitudes delight, 

 In unfrequented glooms or shaggy banks. 

 Steep, and divided by a babbling brook. 

 Whose murmurs soothe them all the livelong day. 

 When by kind duty fixed. Among the roots 

 Of hazel pendent o'er the plaintive stream. 

 They frame the first foundation of their domes, 

 Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid. 

 And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought 

 But restless hurry through the busy air, 

 Beat by unnumbered wings. The swallow sweeps 

 The slimy pool, to build his hanging house 

 Intent ; and often from the careless back 

 Of herds and flocks a thousand tugging bills 

 Steal hair and wool ; and oft when unobserved. 

 Pluck from the barn a straw ; till soft and warm, 

 Clean and complete, their habitation grows. 

 As thus the patient dam assiduous sits. 

 Not to be tempted from her tender task 

 Or by sharp hunger or by smooth delight. 

 Though the whole loosened spring around her blows, 

 Her sympathizing lover takes his stand 

 High on the opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 

 The tedious time away ; or else supplies 

 Her place a moment, while she suddenly flits 

 To pick the scanty meal. 



— James Thomson. 



