ODE TO A PAIR OF RING-OUZELS. 



A deep and solemn silence broods 

 Over the breezy solitudes 

 Whereon the mountaineer intrudes 



To crown a summer climb : 

 The soaring lark, a dreamy bee, 

 A pipit twittering from the lea 

 Beguiled the journey, but no glee 



Disturbs the peak sublime. 



Yet music haunts it, and ere long 

 From some wild crag will float a song, 

 Perchance the protest loud and strong 



Of one who brooks no guest ; 

 Perhaps a love-plaint true and clear. 

 Meant to attract the distant ear 

 Of wandering mate called back to cheer. 



Or mind the busy nest. 



Sweep the grey boulders, and you soon 

 Shall see the form whence flows the tune. 

 And mark a crescent like the moon, 



Beneath a sable throat, 

 With golden lips that warble till 

 The yearnings melt into a trill 

 Of joy, as flitting round the hill 



The truant hears his note. 



Marcus S. C. Rickards, MA., F.L.S., 



in " Sont/s of Universal Life,^^ 



