The Wood Thrush 



87 



morning the nest was empt}^ Whether the mother bird, too, was car- 

 ried off is not known. She was not again seen about the place. 



The art of the bird in the new site was at fault in more than one 

 respect; the moss that served to conceal her nest upon the gray mossy 

 rock only emphasized it and made it conspicuous upon the new yellow 

 timber. 



^j\cvyn 



1 j^) 



A phcebe's nesting sites 



The Wood Thrush 



He has a coat of cinnamon brown, 



The brightest on his head and crown, 



A very low cut vest of white 



That shines like satin in the light, 



And on his breast a hundred spots, 



As if he wore a veil with dots ; 



With movement quick and full of grace. 



The highbred manner of his race; 



A very prince of birds is he 



Whose form it is a joy to see. 



And music — was there ever heard 

 A sweeter song from any bird ? 

 Now clarion-like, so loud and clear. 

 Now like a whisper low and near, 

 And now, again, with rhythmic swells 

 And tinkling harmony of bells. 

 He seems to play accompaniment 

 Upon some harp-like instrument. 



GARRETT NEWKIRK 



