The Bobolink 169 



perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long flaunt- 

 ing weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours 

 forth a succession of rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon 

 another like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and pos- 

 sessing the same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches 

 from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets 

 upon the twig, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as 

 if overcome with ecstasy at his own music." 



And this is an epitome of one of the most interesting birds 

 of our avi fauna, and whose annual stay with us is told by Mr. 

 John Burroughs so beautifully in verse. 



"Daisies, clover, buttercup, 



Red-top, trefoil, meadow sweet, 

 Ecstatic wing soaring up, 



Then gliding down to grassy seat. 



Sunshine, laughter, mad desires, 



May day, June day, lucid skies, 

 All reckless things that love inspires, 



The gladdest bird that sings and flies. 



Meadows, orchards, bending sprays, 



Rushes, lillies, billowy wheat, 

 Song and frolic all his days, 



A feathered rondeau all complete. 



Pink bloom, gold bloom, fleabane white, 



Dew drop, rain drop, cooling shade, 

 Bubbling throat and hovering flight, 



And jubilant heart as e'er was made." 



