cidedly different as never for a moment repeated a dozen or more times with in- 

 to be confounded, though the former is creasing rapidity, then suddenly changed 

 suggestive of the latter. The Tennessee's to a mere twitter." 



song is certainly much shriller than that The Tennessee Warbler nests in low 

 of the Nashville Warbler. Mr. Ernest bushes or upon the ground, building its 

 Thompson has described its song as be- home with fine fibers and grasses inter- 

 ginning "with a note like chipiti, chipiti, woven with mosses and lined with hair. 



AN AUTUMN WILD GOOSE FLIGHT. 



The air is cloudy and chilly and dull 



With the shivering strains of an autumn sky ; 



The great brown earth lies in withering lull, 

 With its heart-beats resting. — They do not die. 



The plowman, rapt in his labors of steel, 



Looks up and seems to feel and to hear 

 A sigh of Nature — perhaps an appeal 



To love her still, though her sleep-time is near. 



He sweeps the gray with his wandering glance, 



That the heralds of sleep he may not miss ; 

 And he hears the grim and louder advance 



Of the unseen hosts in the cloud abyss. 



On his ear in a measured sweet-harsh song 



Falls the "honk, honk, honk" of familiar strains ; 



This his vision discerns the V-shaped throng 



That is sweeping from Northland lakes and plains. 



"O birds of Nature !" he cries in his heart, 



"Fly on where the summer is evermore ; 

 Fly on while we wait, in our bare-learned art, 



For thy minstrelsy of the spring once more." 



And the wild geese fly with their measured song 

 Toward the sun-bright lands of a constant spring ; 



Some glory of Nature is carried along 

 By even her humblest creatures a-wing. 



— Willis Edwin Hurd. 



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