Birds ! Birds ! ye are beautiful thiugs, 



With your earth-treading feet and your cloud-cleaving wings 



Where shall man wander, and where shall he dwell, 



Beautiful birds, that ye come not as well .' 



Ye have nests on the mountain, all rugged and stark, 



Ye have nesfs in the forest all tangled and dark ; 



Ye build and ye brood 'neath the cottagers' eaves, 



And j'e sleep on the sod 'mid the bonnie green leaves. 



Ye hide in the heather, ye lurk in the brake, 



Ye dive in the sweet flags that shadow the lake ; 



Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard-deck'd land. 



Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate strand. 



Beautiful Birds, ye come thickly around. 



When the bud's on the branch and the snow's on the ground; 



Ye come when the richest of roses flush out. 



And ye come when the yellow leaf eddies about ! 



Eli:a Cooli. 



