96 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



and winter forms one of the covey which is con- 

 tent to wander a mile or two, here and there, in 

 search of good feeding grounds. Hardly has the 

 bobolink donned his first full dress before an irre- 

 sistible impulse seizes him. One night he rises 

 up and up, ever higher on fluttering wings, sets 

 his course southward, gives you a glimpse of him 

 across the moon, and keeps on through Virginia 

 to Florida, across seas, over tropical islands, far 

 into South America, never content until he has 

 put the great Amazon between him and his far 

 distant birthplace. 



He who, from zone to zone, 



Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 

 In the long way that I must tread alone, 



Will lead my steps aright. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



