78 BIRD-SONGS ABOUT WORCESTER. 



I cannot forbear in closing to quote the 

 first and last stanzas of a delightful little 

 poem on this bird by Celia Thaxter. 



Across the narrow beach we flit, 



One little sandpiper and I ; 

 And fast I gather, bit by bit, 



The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 

 The wild waves reach their hands for it, 



The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 

 As up and down the beach we flit, — 



One httle sandpiper and I. 



Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 



When the loosed storm breaks furiously? 

 My driftwood fire will burn so bright ! 



To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? 

 I do not fear for thee, though wroth 



The tempest rushes through the sky ; 

 For are we not God's children both. 



Thou httle sandpiper and I ? 



