14 BIRD STORIES FROM BURROUGHS 



Now loosened currents glance and run, 

 And buckets shine on sturdy boles, 

 The forest folk peep from their holes, 



And work is play from sun to sun. 



The downy beats his sounding limb, 

 The nuthatch pipes his nasal call, 

 And Robin perched on treetop tall 



Heavenward lifts his evening hymn. 



Now go and bring thy homesick bride, 

 Persuade her here is just the place 

 To build a home and found a race 



In Downy's cell, my lodge beside. 



