BIRDS AND POETS 
And followed still the wandering strain, 
So melancholy and so sweet, 
The dim-eyed violets yearned with pain. 
*T was now a sorrow in the air, 
Some nymph’s immortalized despair 
Haunting the woods and waterfalls; 
And now, at long, sad intervals, 
Sitting unseen in dusky shade, 
_ His plaintive pipe some fairy played, 
With long-drawn cadence thin and clear, <=» 
‘Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!’ 
.“Long-drawn and clear its closes were — 
As if the hand of Music through 
The sombre robe of Silence drew 
A thread of golden gossamer; 
So pure a flute the fairy blew. 
Like beggared princes of the wood, 
In silver rags the birches stood; 
The hemlocks, lordly counselors, 
Were dumb ; the sturdy servitors, 
In beechen jackets patched and gray, 
Seemed waiting spellbound all the day 
That low, entrancing note to hear, — 
‘Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!’ 
“JT quit the search, and sat me down 
Beside the brook, irresolute, 
And watched a little bird in suit 
Of sober olive, soft and brown, 
Perched in the maple branches, mutes 
With greenish gold its vest was fringed, 
Its tiny cap was ebon-tinged, 
With ivory pale its wings were barred, 
And its dark eyes were tender-starred. 
“ Dear bird,’ I said, “ what is thy name ? 
And thrice the mournful answer came, 
So faint and far, and yet so near, — _ 
‘Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!’ 
“For so I found my forest bird, — 
The pewee of the loneliest woods, 
Sole singer in these solitudes, 
Which never robin’s whistle stirred, 
