Crow, American 



As glum as the face of Care? 



I wait for your reply, 



And into the peaceful pause 



There comes a curious, croaking cry 



"Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" 



CLINTON SCOLLABD. 



Iridescent is their plumage, 



Loud their voices, bold their clamor, 



In the pools and shallows wading; 



Or in overflowing meadows 



Searching for the waste of winter 



Scraps and berries freed by thawing. 



Weird their notes, and hoarse their croaking; 



Silent only when the night comes. 



BOLLES. Chocorua's Tenants. 19 



When the goldenrod uplifted 



As a wayside benediction 



Cheers the traveler on his journey 



Through the sultry hours of August, 



Deep within the forest's reaches, 



In the shadow of the ledges, 



Gather crows in friendly concourse 



All their notes are low and drowsy, 

 Muffled croaks, and guttural cawings, 

 All their motions speak contentment, 

 Tell of coolness, well-fed comfort. 



BOLLES. Chocorua's Tenants. 19 



61 



