90 BRITISH BIRDS. 



Jet-bright Wing ! Jet-bright Wing ! 



Flit across the sunset glade; 



Lying there in wait to sing, 



Listen, with thine head awrj-, 

 Keeping time with twinkling eye, 



While, from all the woodland shade, 



Birds of every plume and note 



Strain the throat, 



Till both hill and valley ring, 

 And the warbled minstrelsy, 

 Ebbing, flowing, like the sea. 

 Claims brief interludes from thee : 

 Then, with simple swell and fall. 

 Breaking beautiful through all, 

 Let thy Pan-like pipe repeat 

 Few notes, but sweet." 



