Veery. Wilson's Thrush. Tawny Thrush 



The veery . . . .sings at night also, and its weird, 

 sweet strains floating through the woods at dusk, thrill 

 one like the mysterious voice of a disembodied spirit. 



NELTJE BLANCHAN. Bird Neighbors. 23 



No sweeter note gives out Apollo's lyre, 

 None sweeter gives the shell his brother plays; 



This gift of tawny thrush transcends the fire 



Of any mortal soul that would aspire 

 To sing as now I sing the Veery 's praise. 



SELECTED. 



The Wood Notes of the Veery 



The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were 

 pouring, 



When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deplor- 

 ing, 



So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie; 



I longed to hear a simpler strain, the wood notes of the 

 veery. 



The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather, 

 It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together; 

 He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, 



his dearie; 

 I only know one song more sweet, the wood notes of the 



veery. 



In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity 



treasure, 

 I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure; 



160 



