^^^Vi\ 



TO THE SONG SPARROW 



By EDMUND J. SAWYER 



'Ground Bird' we called you in our barefoot days, 

 When Spring impelled us on our truant ways. 

 How well we knew and loved those happy lays 



You caroled from the 'pussy-willow' bough ! 

 In feather, form, and note you are the same; 

 Old Time has overlooked you, soul and frame; 

 The flight of years has changed you but in name; 



'Ground Bird' of old, we call you Song Sparrow now. 



Now flitting and skulking by the brook, 

 Calling and peering from the grassy nook. 

 Hopping and hiding, you have every look 



Of sprightly youth you had in days of yore. 

 Your merry song, so sweet, so glad and free; 

 Your pose atop the fence or willow tree; 

 Your long, loose tail, abob — all bring to me 



The days that were, the days that are no more. 



(136) 



