Crossbill, Red 



their crossed beaks in getting at the seeds in the pine 

 cones a superficial criticism when the thoroughness and 

 admirable dexterity of their work are better understood. 

 .... They are said to be inordinately fond of salt. 



NELTJE BLANCHAN. Bird Neighbors. 23 

 The Legend of the Crossbill 



FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN, BY LONGFELLOW. 



On the cross the dying Saviour 

 Heavenward lifts His eyelids calm, 



Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling 

 In His pierced and bleeding palm. 



And by all the world forsaken, 



Sees He how with zealous care 

 At the ruthless nail of iron 



A little bird is striving there. 



Stained with blood and never tiring, 



With its beak it doth not cease, 

 From the cross t'would free the Saviour, 



Its Creator's Son release. 



And the Saviour speaks in mildness : 



" Blest be thou of all the good! 

 Bear, as token of this moment, 



Marks of blood and holy rood!" 



And that bird is called the crossbill, 



Covered all with blood so clear, 

 In the groves of pine it singeth 



Songs, like legends, strange to hear. 



57 



