THE GOLD-CREST AT HOME. 69 



Or to the spreading fir-tree wing 

 Alert their fluttering flight, and cling 

 Beneath the boughs, the foliage thread, 

 And creeping to the topmost head, 

 From branch to branch all noiseless steal, 

 The trees the tiny form conceal. 

 The back with ashy-green bedight, 

 The wings with sable barred, and white ; 

 The breast's pale yellow mixed with brown, 

 And fringed with black the orange crown. 



To this we may add a picture which we have attempted 

 of the lively little Kinglet : 



Mid the shadow of the pines, flitting here and there, 

 Lo ! the Golden-crested Wren glanceth through the air, 

 Like a fiery meteor, or a shooting star, 

 The tiniest of creatures that in the forest are ; 



Never still a moment whisking to and fro 

 Now amid the topmost boughs, now the roots below ; 

 Now he perks his feathers up, now he twinks his eye, 

 Now emits a warble low, now a short, sharp cry. 



Lo ! the Golden-crested Wren, he 's a happy bird, 

 Dwelling 'mid the solitude, where the boughs are stirred 

 By the gentle breezes stealing in and out, 

 He their tuneful whispers understands, no doubt. 



Soft and solemn music he hath ever near, 

 Like angelic voicings from a better sphere ; 

 Kind and tender greetings from his wedded love, 

 And the gentle cooings of the Cushat Dove. 



Hath he not the Magpie, and the laughing Jay, 

 And the playful Squirrel all to make him gay ; 

 Pleasant sights and perfumes hath he not all these, 

 And bright gleams of sunshine breaking through the trees ? 



As the tufted pine-cones sporteth he among, 

 Cometh not the Wild Bee murmuring a song, 

 Where around his dwelling, tassels all of gold 

 Make it like a palace, gorgeous to behold ? 



When the tempest riseth, and the winds roar loud, 

 And the haughty pine-trees unto earth are bowed, 

 Lo ! secure he lieth in his feathered nest, 

 Fearing nought of danger perfectly at rest. 



Yes, he leads a pleasant life doth the Crested Wren, 

 Far away from noisy town, and the haunts of men. 

 If no duty bound me were I free to roam 

 Gladly would I visit him in his sylvan home. 



