160 THE SINGING OF BIRDS 



A golden bill ! the silver tongue, 



Cold February loved, is dry : 



Plenty corrupts the melody 

 That made thee famous once, when young : 



And in the sultry garden-squares, 



Now thy flute notes are changed to coarse, 

 I hear thee not at all, or hoarse 



As when a hawker hawks his wares. 



Take warning ! he that will not sing 

 While yon sun prospers in the blue, 

 Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new, 



Caught in the frozen palms of Spring. 



ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. 



BLACKBIRDS AND CHERRIES 



(Prom " The Spectator ") 



" THERE is another circumstance in which I am 

 very particular, or, as my neighbours call me, very 

 whimsical : as my garden invites into it all the birds 

 of the country, by offering them the conveniency of 

 springs and shades, solitude and shelter, I do not 

 suffer any one to destroy their nests in the spring, 

 or drive them from their usual haunts in fruit time. 

 I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds 

 than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for 

 their songs. By this means I have always the music 

 of the season in its perfection, and am highly de- 

 lighted to see the jay or the thrush hopping about 



