2 BIRDS AND POETS 
making a journey on foot to Philadelphia, shortly 
after landing in this country, he caught sight of the 
red-headed woodpecker flitting among the trees, —a 
bird that shows like a tricolored scarf among the 
foliage, —and it so kindled his enthusiasm that his 
life was devoted to the pursuit of the birds from 
that day. It was a lucky hit. Wilson had already 
set up as a poet in Scotland, and was still ferment- 
ing when the bird met his eye and suggested to his 
soul a new outlet for its enthusiasm. 
The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a sugges- 
tion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of 
the scale, so vehement and intense is his life, — large- 
brained, large-lunged, hot, ecstatic, his frame charged 
with buoyancy and his heart with song. The beau- 
tiful vagabonds, endowed with every grace, masters 
of all climes, and knowing no bounds, — how many 
human aspirations are realized in their free, holiday 
lives, and how many suggestions to the poet in their 
flight and song! 
Indeed, is not the bird the original type and 
teacher of the poet, and do we not demand of the 
human lark or thrush that he ‘‘shake out his carols ” 
in the same free and spontaneous manner as his 
winged prototype? Kingsley has shown how surely 
the old minnesingers and early ballad-writers have 
learned of the birds, taking their key-note from the 
blackbird, or the wood-lark, or the throstle, and 
giving utterance to a melody as simple and unstud- 
ied. Such things as the following were surely 
caught from the fields or the woods: — 
