26 BEAUTIFUL, BIRDS 
“If we cannot enter it,” said the poor Birds of 
Paradise, “let us‘at least forget it. Take away/ous 
beautiful voices, so that, when we sing, we shall not 
think of all the joys we have lost. Let our song be 
no more than the lark’s or the nightingale’s, or make 
us only able to twitter, and not sing at all. Then we 
can listen to the lark and the nightingale, and 
perhaps, in time, we may grow to admire them. As 
it is, we must either sing or be silent. We do not 
like to sit silent, and when we sing we think only of 
Paradise.” “Yes,” said. the, Phenix, “hh wall@egee 
your voice, your beautiful voice of song.” So he 
took it, and that is why the Birds of Paradise never 
sing at all now, not even as the lark and the nightin- 
gale sing. 
After that they were happier, but still they had their 
great beauty, their glorious, glorious plumage, and 
when they looked at each other they felt sad and hung 
their heads, for still they thought of Paradise. ‘ You 
have taken our song from us,” they said (for they were 
soon there at the gate again), “but still our beauty 
remains. Take that also, that, when we look at each 
other, we may not think of the Paradise we have lost, 
and be wretched.” ‘‘Fly back to earth,” said- the 
Phenix, ‘‘and when you are a little way off I will 
open the gates of Paradise wide, and the brightness 
that is in it will stream out and scorch your feathers, 
