BIRDS mV NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. M 



Vol. XII. NOVEMBER. 1902. No. 4 



NOVEMBER 



When thistle-blows do lightly float 



About the pasture-height, 

 And shrills the hawk a parting note, 



And creeps the frost at night, 

 Then hilly ho ! though singing so. 



And whistle as I may, 

 There comes again the old heart pain 



Through all the livelong day. 



In high wind creaks the leafless tree 



And nods the fading fern : 

 The knolls are dun as snow-clouds be, 



And cold the sun does burn. 

 The ho, hollo! though calling so, 



I cannot keep it down ; 

 The tears arise unto my eyes, 



And thoughts are chill and brown. 



Far in the cedars' dusky stoles. 



Where the sere ground-vine weaves, 

 The partridge drums funereal rolls 



Above the fallen leaves. 

 And hip, hip, ho! though cheering so. 



It stills no whit the pain ; 

 For drip, drip, drip, from bare branch-tip, 



I hear the year's last rain. 



So drive the cold cows from the hill, 



And call the wet sheep in ; 

 And let their stamping clatter fill 



The barn with warming din. 

 And ho, folk, ho! though it is so 



That we no more may roam. 

 We still will find a cheerful mind 



Around the fire at home ! 



— C. L. Cleavelaxd. 



I 



