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Oh beautiful birds! ye come thicl<iy around, 



Wheu 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. 



Oh beautiful birds ! how the schoolboy remembers 



The robin that chirped in the frosty Decembers, 



The black bird that whistled through flower crowned June, 



The warblers that chorused his holy-day tune. 



That schoolboy remembers his holy-day ramble, 



When he' pulled every blossom of palm he could see, 



When his finger was raised as he stopped in the bramble 



With: hark, there's the cuckoo, how close must he be! 



Oh beautiful birds, we 've encircled your names 



With the fairest of fruils and the fiercest of flames, 



We paint War with his eagle and Peace with her dove, 



With the red bolt of Dealh and the olive of Love. 



The fountain of Friendship is never complete, 



Till ye coo o'er its waters so sparkling and sweet. 



And where is the hand that would dare to devide 



Even Wisdom's grave self from the owl by her side? 



Ye beautiful creatures of freedom and light, 



Oh where is the eye that groweth not bright. 



As it watches you trimming your soft glossy coats. 



And swelling your bossoms and rulTling your throats? 



Oh, I would not ask — as the old ditties sing — 



„To be happy as sand-boy, or happy as king." 



For the joy is more blissful that bid me declare: 



„I am happy as all the wild birds in the air!" 



1 will tell them to find me a grave, when I die. 



Where no marble will shut out the glorious sky; 



Where the moon will shine down, where the daisy will bloom 



An the leveret pass by, lei them give me a tomb. 



But be sure, there "s a tree stretching out high and wide, 



That the songsters secure in its foliage hide. 



For the truest and purest of requiem heard 



Is an eloquent hymn of the beautiful bird. 



Eliza Cook. 



Uebersetzung. 



Vogel, traules Volkchen, so schon, so leicht beschwingt. 

 Die ihr von platter Erde bis zu den Wolken dringt! 

 Wohin mag Jemand wandern, wo seine Wohnung bau'n , 

 Dass er nicht allenthalben mit Lust euch sollle schau'n? 

 Ihr nistet in Gebirgen auf starrem Felsgestein, 

 Ihr kehrt im finslern Dickicht uralter Forslen ein, 

 Ihr briitet, von der Traufe des Hiiltners iiberdeckt, 

 Und schlaft auf offnem Felde iu fettem Gras versteckt; 

 Ihr bergel euch in Haiden und lauert in dem Moor, 



