LYRISTS OF A SUBURB. 93 



One of my most delightful companions of this 

 clover-field has been the bobolink, which at his 

 first coming and for two months afterward made 

 the welkin ring with its rich, metallic melody. 

 Nothing can be more delightful than to listen to 

 the male bobolinks, which are the musicians, as 

 they mount up into the air, poise for a few mo- 

 ments without change of position, burst into song, 

 and then sweep slowly and sometimes in a spiral 

 course down into the grass again, the notes melt- 

 ing away in a cadence as the birds reach the 

 ground. When a half-dozen of these birds are 

 singing their overtures simultaneously in different 

 parts of the field, the air seems to quiver and 

 dance and gambol with the vibrant melody. 



Once more I yield to the temptation to quote 

 from Mr. Lowell, whose '' Under the Willows " is 

 so buoyant with the joyfulness of nature, especially 

 of nature in June. After speaking of the eaily 

 spring song of the bluebird, he breaks out in this, 

 manner : 



"But now, O rapture ! sunshine winged and voiced, 



Gladness of woods, skies, waters, all in one, 



The bobolink has come, and, like the soul 



Of the sweet season vocal in a bird, 



Gurgles in ecstasy we know not what, 



Save June ! Dear June ! Now God be praised for June." 



