THE SONG OF BIRDS. 



BY W. W. CALDWELL. 



WHEN spring returns in bud and flower, 



And south winds breathe o'er hill and plain, 

 And winter's cold hath lost its power ; 

 Then longings come to hear again 



From field and grove the blackbird's call s 

 The sparrow's chirp, and, over all, 

 The bobolink's exultant strain. 



When summer blushes in the rose, 

 And woodland odors fill the air, 

 And all the grassy wayside glows 



With golden light and blossoms fair ; 

 In welcome shade I love to rest, 

 While near me, o'er his hidden nest. 

 The linnet trills, and lulls my care : 



Or wake at early dawn, when now 

 Faint flushes up the orient play, 

 And hear from every leafy bough 

 Glad choirs their adoration pay ; 

 Or, when the twilight purples die, 

 Thrill to the robin's plaintive cry, 

 His farewell to departing day. 

 (7) 



