Spring Songsters 



[FIRST WEEK 



and bring him irresistibly to the loved nest in the rafters? 

 This love of home, which is so striking an attribute of 

 birds, is a wonderfully beautiful thing. It brings the oriole 

 back to the branch, where still swings her exquisite purse- 

 shaped home of last summer; it leads each pair of fish- 

 hawks to their particular cartload of sticks, to which a 

 few more must be added each year; it hastens the wing 

 beats of the sea-swallows northward to the beach which, 

 ten months ago, was flecked with their eggs the shift- 

 ing grains of sand their only nest. 



This love of home, of birthplace, bridges over a thou- 

 sand physical differences between these feathered creatures 

 and ourselves. We forget their expressionless masks of 

 horn, their feathered fingers, their scaly toes, and looking 

 deep into their clear, bright eyes, we know and feel a 

 kinship, a sympathy of spirit, which binds us all together, 

 and we are glad. 



Yet these sweet sounds of the early season, 



And these fair sights of its sunny days, 

 Are only sweet when we fondly listen, 



And only fair when we fondly gaze. 



There is no glory in star or blossom 



Till looked upon by a loving eye; 

 There is no fragrance in April breezes 



Till breathed with joy as they wander by. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



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