THE WOOING OF BIRDS 119 



again flies to his favourite branch on the birch, and 

 pours out such a flood of passionate and loving 

 music that we know he has won his mate won her 

 by music, and such music that if only a human voice 

 could match it the singer would attract the world ; 

 yet here, in this lonely woodland corner I am often 

 his only human listener. 



