' The little bird sits at his door in the sun 

 Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 

 And lets his illumined being o'errun 

 With the deluge of summer it receives ; 

 His mate feels her eggs beneath her wings, 

 And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings 

 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest. 

 In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best ? " 



LOWELL. 



