\ 



Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 

 And over it softly her warm ear lays," 



N those perfect days of early 



rateful and multitudinous response 

 is hers in the choral of the birds ! Begun 

 long before the dawn, to cease only with the 

 starlight, nor hardly then, for the vesper-spar- 

 row, the whippoorwill, the chat, and the owl 

 still hold the diminuendo for the awakening 

 auroral choir. 



If it is true and the poet but vitalizes 

 a natural law as pertinent to sound-waves 

 as to rippling water that 



Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, 

 Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 



But it carves the bow of beauty there, 



And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake," 



then what a bewildering maze is this pal- 

 pitating vault, where the very haze seems all 

 a tremor to the trilling throats ! 



