258 IN BIRD LAND. 
TFwitches the fibrous bark away, 
The cordage of his hammock nest, 
Cheering his labor with a note 
Rich as the orange of his throat. 
“ High o’er the loud and dusty road 
The soft gray cup in safety swings, 
To brim ere August with its load 
Of downy breasts and throbbing wings, 
O’er which the friendly elm-tree heaves 
An emerald roof with sculptured leaves. 
Thy duty, wingéd flame of Spring, 
Is but to love and fly and sing.” 
Then he chants a pathetic “ palinode,’’ as he 
calls it, in December, when 
“«. . . homeless winds complain along 
The columned choir once thrilled with song. 
“ And thou, dear nest, whence joy and praise 
The thankful oriole used to pour, 
Swing’st empty while the north winds chase 
Their snowy swarms from Labrador. 
But, loyal to the happy past, 
I love thee still for what thou wast.” 
Besides the bobolink and the oriole, the black- 
bird is often made to do charming duty in Lowell’s 
verse. Every student of the birds has often seen 
the picture described by the line, — 
“ Alders the creaking red-wings sink on;” 
or heard 
“. . . the blackbirds clatt’rin’ in tall trees 
An’ settlin’ things in windy Congresses, — 
Queer politicians, though, for I’ll be skinned 
Ef all on ’em don’t head against the wind.” 
