THE ORIOLE 



A FLASH of gold and scarlet 'mid the green 

 Of fragrant, blooming appletree, my dear 

 Old friend the oriole returns once more 

 To seek his last year's nesting place, and rear 

 His little brood again; once more to cheer 

 My heart with his bright ways, from morn till e'en, 

 And sing above my window as of yore. / 



Behold the regal songster, as he sits 



Upon the swaying bough and preens his bright, 



Rich plumage. Now and then his head 

 He sidewise turns, as if he would invite 

 The wonderment of every one in sight. 

 Now hear him warble, as he deftly flits 



From bough to bough, by wayward fancy led. 



Now hear that liquid, tender, golden note ; 

 He calls his mate, a hidden place to show 



Where gnarled branches form a perfect goal 

 To swing their nest, secure from wanton foe ; 

 Secure from rain and mid-day's torrid glow. 

 There they will rear their brood, while from his throat 

 Will swell the song of matchless oriole. 



[7] 



