7Y77i OLIVE LEAF, CHAP. 



A NEST IN A HEATHER BUSH. 



ONE day in June I found a dainty nest, 



So cunningly hid in a heather bush 



That fringed a way-side rock, no human eye 



Would e'er have seen the secret hidden there, 



Had not the bird betrayed it, flying out. 



'Twixt nest and bush a subtle harmony 



Revealed itself, suggesting precious thoughts. 



The nest grew to its round completeness, formed 



By skill unconscious, as the heather sprays 



Grew naturally around its mossy sides, 



Keeping the bright eye of the laughing day 



From peering in with glance too curious. 



And when the crimson bloom burst through the leaves 



Seven tiny eggs, blue as a summer wave, 



Blushed 'neath the warm reflection which it cast. 



Love built the nest, love shaped the heather-bloom ; 



And both are tender products of the same 



Mysterious heart that throbs in Nature's breast. 



The nest is but a flower-cup, in whose depth 



The bird-life blossoms ; and the heather-flower 



Is but a brighter-hued and tenderer nest, 



In which the plant expends its richest grace. 



The mate's sweet song upon the neighbouring tree. 



The brightened feathers on its bosom soft, 



The deftly-woven nest and gem-like eggs, 



The mother's love that quickens them to life, 



Are but the counter-parts in higher form. 



