THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 23 



tanager delay their coming till then. In the 

 meadows the bobolink is in all his glory ; in 

 the high pastures the field-sparrow sings his 

 breezy vesper-hymn ; and the woods are un- 

 folding to the music of the thrushes. 



The cuckoo is one of the most solitary 

 birds of our forests, and is strangely tame 

 and quiet, appearing equally untouched by 

 joy or grief, fear or anger. Something re- 

 mote seems ever weighing upon his mind. 

 His note or call is as of one lost or wander- 

 ing, and to the farmer is prophetic of rain. 

 Amid the general joy and the sweet assur- 

 ance of things, I love to listen to the strange 

 clairvoyant call. Heard a quarter of a mile 

 away, from out the depths of the forest, 

 there is something peculiarly weird and 

 monkish about it. Wordsworth's lines upon 

 the European species apply equally well to 

 ours : 



" O blithe new-comer! I have heard, 



I hear thee and rejoice : 

 O cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird ? 

 Or but a wandering voice ? 



" While I am lying on the grass, 



Thy loud note smites my ear ! 

 From hill to hill it seems to pass, 

 At once far off and near ! 



