364 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
tail-feathers that show conspicuously as he flits along 
and tells his name. 
THE VESPER-SPARROW 
It comes from childhood land, 
Where summer days are long 
And summer eves are bland — 
A lulling good-night song. 
Upon a pasture stone, 
Against the fading west, 
A small bird sings alone, 
Then dives and finds its nest. 
The evening star has heard 
And flutters into sight. 
Oh, childhood’s vesper bird, 
My heart calls back good night. 
— Epira M. Tuomas. 
The Chipping-sparrow. Our least Sparrow, who wears 
a little chestnut velvet cap, gray back, and black bill, 
and has a mild, innocent expression in keeping with 
his friendly ways. He puts his dainty hair-lined 
nest (from which he is sometimes called Hair-bird) 
in a near-by shrub or rose-bush in the garden, and 
then hops about the door, picking up almost invisible 
bits of food, calling “chip-chip-chip.”’ His courting 
song is a long trill that begins at dawn almost with 
the Phoebe, and the dear little bird often sings as he 
sits on the ground. 
The Tree-swallow. This we saw last fall in the migration, 
