92 THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 



IX 



The fires have gone out on the open hearth. 

 Listen early in the morning and toward evening for 

 the rumbling, the small, muffled thunder, of the 

 chimney swallows, as they come down from the open 

 sky on their wonderful wings. Don't be frightened. 

 It is n't Santa Glaus this time of year ; nor is it the 

 Old Nick ! The smothered thunder is caused by the 

 rapid beating of the swallows' wings on the air in 

 the narrow chimney-flue, as the birds settle down 

 from the top of the chimney and hover over their 

 nests. Stick your head into the fireplace and look 

 up ! Don't smoke the precious lodgers out, no matter 

 how much racket they make. 



Hurry out while the last drops of your first May 

 thunder-shower are still falling and listen to the 

 robins singing from the tops of the trees. Their 

 liquid songs are as fresh as the shower, as if the rain- 

 drops in falling were running down from the trees 

 in song as indeed they are in the overflowing 

 trout-brook. Go out and listen, and write a better 

 poem than this one that I wrote the other afternoon 

 when listening to the birds in our first spring 

 shower : 



The warm rain drops aslant the sun 



And in the rain the robins sing; 

 Across the creek in twos and troops, 



The hawking swifts and swallows wing. 



