u8 What Birds Have Done With Me 



weather, and the man thinking himself attacked, 

 struck the friendly little creature to the ground 

 and killed him. It was certainly a warning to us, 

 for we had failed to teach our birds not to at- 

 tempt even the average pipe without a gas-mask. 

 In this little study of the Chickadee it has been 

 hard to stick to prose, which is my only reason for 

 lapsing into rhyme. 



When the blizzard from the Northland 

 Holds the world in fierce embrace 

 And ten million swirling crystals 

 Sting you, blind you, smite your face ; 

 And your world is not your world, 

 Grotesque distortions, bush and tree; 

 Above the raging, howling tempest 

 Comes a joyous chick-ardee. 

 In the soul there's something hidden, 

 That such a message comes to greet; 

 Above the rage of human passion 

 Comes a whisper strangely sweet; 

 A little song from out the tempest, 

 Born of hope for you and me, 

 There's love eternal in the storm cloud 

 When this bird sings chick-a-dee. 



