138 THE MISSEL THRUSH. 



Save where the Thrush that hovers nigh, 

 Sends from the hedge sweet lullaby. 



Many more passages might be quoted from the old poets 

 of the like character to the above, but this will be suffi- 

 cient. One more modern poem in conclusion : many offer 

 themselves, but let us take that by Barry Cornwall, to 



THE WOOD THRUSH. 



Whither hath the Wood Thrush flown 



From our greenwood bowers ? 

 Wherefore builds he not again 



Where the whitethorn flowers ? 



Bid him come ! for on his wings 



The sunny year he bringeth ; 

 And the heart unlocks its springs, 



Wheresoe'er he singeth. 



Lover-like the creature waits, 



And when morning soareth, 

 All his little soul of song 



Tow'rd the dawn he poureth. 



Sweet one, why art thou not heard 



Now, where woods are stillest ? 

 Oh, come back ! and bring with thee 



Whatsoe'er thou wiliest. 



Laughing thoughts, delighting songs, 



Dreams of azure hours, 

 Something, nothing ; all we ask 



Is to see thee ours ! 



'Tis enough that thou should'st sing 



For thy own pure pleasure ; 

 'Tis enough that thou hast once 



Sweetened human leisure. 



THE MISSEL THRUSH (Turdus viscivorus). Variously 

 called the Grey, Holm, or Screech Thrush, the Storm Cock, 

 or Shrike. Very like the common Thrush in appearance and 

 habits, this bird is distinguished from it by its larger size, 

 generally measuring upwards of eleven inches in length, 

 with a spread of wing exceeding eighteen inches. It is the 

 largest European bird of its genus, and is a permanent 



