92 THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 



IX 



The fires have gone out on the open hearth. , 

 Listen early in the morning and toward evening for < 

 f the rumbling, the small, muffled thunder, of the < 

 '> chimney swallows, as they come down from the open J 

 ^ v/skyon their wonderful wings. Don't be frightened. ' 

 P, It is n't Santa Glaus this time of year ; nor is it the | >' 

 / Old Nick ! The smothered thunder is caused by the fe 

 rapid beating of the swallows' wings on the air in | 

 the narrow chimney-flue, as the birds settle down\ 

 ; from the top of the chimney and hover over their <') 

 nests. Stick your head into the fireplace and look \ 

 5 up ! Don't smoke the precious lodgers out, no matter ( : , 

 how much racket they make. 



* Hurry out while the last drops of your first May 



I thunder-shower are still falling and listen to the f 

 / robins singing from the tops of the trees. Their v ^ 

 1 liquid songs are as fresh as the shower, as if the rain- \ 

 $ ; drops in falling were running down from the trees ' 

 1 )^>in song as indeed they are in the overflowing , : 

 j trout-brook. Go out and listen, and write a better j 



poem than this one that I wrote the other afternoon 

 !-when listening to the birds in our first spring \ 



1 



)v shower : 



The warm rain drops aslant the sun 

 / And in the rain the robins sing; 



Across the creek in twos and troops, 



The hawking swifts and swallows wing. 



