ii4 Birds of Buzzard's Roost 



each of which is in such a tone as to leave the conclusion evi- 

 dently suspended; the finale is finely managed and with such 

 charming effect as to sooth and tranquilize the mind, and to 

 seem sweeter and mellower at each successive repetition." 



And this recalls that some one has said: "Who can de- 

 scribe the song of a bird? Poets and prose writers alike have 

 lavished epithets on the nightengale and mocking bird, wood 

 thrush and veery. Yet who, till he has heard one, can imag- 

 ine what its song is like?" All that I can say in the attempt 

 is, that my wood thrushes at Buzzard's Roost, as the light of 

 day is going out, down over the hill from the cabins, sing their 

 sweet "Noli-a-e-o-noli-nol-aeolee-lee." 



"From out of the forest depths, 



Clear, sweet, and strong, 

 Floats on the evening wind, 



Shy bird, thy flute-like song." 



I am in accord with my friend Paul Mavity when he 

 writes : "To me the song of the birds is like a sweet prophesy 

 of eternal life, a foretaste of heaven, an invitation to be worthy 

 of paradisal joy. It is like the poetry of young love or of old 

 love kept ever young by chastity, and is best heard by the 

 ears of love itself. Come into the woods with us and listen to 

 the birds, and your faith shall be strengthened and your peace 

 restored." And this is especially true if we are listening to 

 the wood thrush, whose "calm restful song," as Mr. Chapman 

 says, "rings through the woods like a hymn of praise rising 

 pure and clear from a thankful heart. It is a message of hope 

 and good cheer in the morning, a benediction at the close of 

 day, 'come to me.' The flute-like opening notes are an invita- 

 tion to his haunts ; a call from nature to yield ourselves to the 

 ennobling influences of the forest." 



