THE COMING OF PHCEBE 



WHEN buckets shine 'gainst maple trees 

 And drop by drop the sap doth flow, 

 When days are warm, but still nights freeze, 



And deep in woods lie drifts of snow, 

 When cattle low and fret in stall, 

 Then morning brings the pho3be's call, 



" Phoebe, 



Phoebe, phoebe," a cheery note, 

 While cackling hens make such a rout. 



When snowbanks run, and hills are bare, 



And early bees hum round the hive, 

 When woodchucks creep from out their lair 



Right glad to find themselves alive, 

 When sheep go nibbling through the fields, 

 Then Phoebe oft her name reveals, 



"Phoebe, 



Phoebe, phoebe," a plaintive cry, 

 While jack-snipes call in morning sky. 



When wild ducks quack in creek and pond 

 And bluebirds perch on mullein-stalks, 



When spring has burst her icy bond 



And in brown fields the sleek crow walks, 



