BIRD AND ARBOUR DAY AT FOXES CORNERS 401 
5 P.M. 
Who is the bird of the afternoon ? 
The Wood Thrush shy, with his silvery tune 
Of flute and zither and flageolet ; 
His rippling song you will never forget. 
7 P.M. 
Who is the bird of the coming night ? 
The tawny Veery, who out of sight 
In cool dim green o’er the waterway 
The lullaby echoes of sleeping day. 
9 P.M. 
Who is the bird that when all is still 
Like a banshee calls? The Whip-poor-will ; 
Who greets the Nighthawk in upper air 
Where they take their supper of insect fare. 
Midnight 
Who are the birds that at midnight’s stroke 
Play hide-and-seek in the half-dead oak ? 
And laugh and scream ’till the watch-dog howls? 
The wise-looking, mouse-hunting young Screech- 
owls. 
All in chorus 
Good Night! Good Day! 
Be kind to the birds and help repay 
The songs they sing you the livelong day, 
The bugs they gobble and put to flight — 
Without birds, orchards would perish quite! 
Good Day! Good Night! 
ae WO 
2D 
