BIRDS AND NATURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. XIV. SEPTEMBER, 1903. No. 2 



DAY. 



Faster and more fast, 



O'er night's brim, day boils at last : 



Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud cup's brim 



Where, spurting and suppressed it lay, 



For not a frothflake touched the brim 



Of yonder gap in the soleil gray 



Of the eastern cloud, an hour away ; 



But forth one wavelet, then another, curled, 



Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed, 



Rose reddened, and its seething breast 



Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world. 



— Robert Browning. 



SEPTEMBER. 



"You must not forget September!" 

 Could I fail me to remember 

 That brave woodman, and his stroke 

 At the gnarled and iron oak? 

 Or his swift steel's circling flash, 

 Smiting at the stubborn ash, 

 While the pheasant's jewelled wing, 

 Like a firework you up-fling, 

 Flashes from the dying fern, 

 Where the brambles crimson burn ? 

 That's September. Though he's old, 

 Little recks he of the cold. — 

 Brave September ! 



— Walter Thorneury, "The Twelve Brothers." 



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