THE THRUSH. 



But when the morning broke, and the green woods 



Were all alive with birds, with what a clear 



And ravishing sweetness sang the plaintive thrush ! 



I love to hear his delicate rich voice, 



Chanting through all the gloomy day, when loud 



Amid the trees is dropping the big rain, 



And gray mists wrap the hills ; for aye the sweeter 



His song is when the day is sad and dark. 



Longfellow. 



THE SONG-THRUSH is a most melodious singer, 



being gifted with a more powerful tone than any of 



the feathered choristers of the European forest. 



This speckled musician pleases with delight, and 



(64) 



