1 24 Walks in New England 



THE BIRDS IN THE THICKETS 



What voices are these in the thickets ? 



Why, unless my old eyes are garblers, 

 Come here, my boy, and look quick ! it s 



Touch and go with the warblers, 



There there there ! on a score or so of the boughlets, 

 Flitting while you are looking, see their sides of red 



chestnut 

 Gleam for a moment, and now they are still as the 



owlets 

 Up in the hollowed maple Speak now ? well, I guess 



not ! 

 They know their time to talk, and it s not while we re 



near them, 

 Unless we grow still and fine, and grow part of their 



quiet. 



Well have they reason to hush and hide, and to fear 



men, 



Well have they cause every one of our race to shy at, 

 We that slay their bright kindred to adorn the bonnets 



of woman, 



We that kill them to eat, as does the childish Italian, 

 How should the dear birds know that any one that is 



human 



Differs at all from the tramp or the tatterdemalion ? 

 Clad are they all much alike, methinks, to the bird s eye ; 

 Judged by the bird s keen optics and keener acoustics 

 Enemies must we appear, nor caught is the heard sigh, 



