BIRDS ftND NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. XIV. DECEMBER, 1903. No. 5 



THE LOST NOTES. 



Midst glacial mists, 



Across the shroud of amethysts 



And emeralds sown to dust; 



Across the stain and rust 



Of footsteps centuries have trod ; 



Across the new, sweet sod 



Of yesterday, and all fair things 



Sweeps ever, as the free world swings 



Upon her way, a rapture song 



Of nature, sweet and strong, 



Sways on from shore to shore, from sea to sea, 



Now lost, now found across immensity, 



But never hushed. The whir of wings ; 



The drowsy hum amidst the rings 



Of clover in the grass; 



The clarion tone across the mountain-pass ; 



The song above some nest; the morning cry 



When day but breaks ; the song which drifteth by 



At noontide or at night; 



The vesper-voice when light 



But dies ; the lullaby 



Where mothers sirfg and sigh ; 



The reeds bent low to sing across the brook ; 



The triumph-song shook 



From the heart of forests that survive ; the breath of leaves 



Bound round in garlands near the eaves ; 



The rhapsodies of seas, 



The fantasies of avalanche — all these 



Intone the rapture-song of nature, yet we miss 



The martyred song-bird's sweet, lost notes of bliss. 



— George Klingle. 



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