BIRDS ftND NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. X JUNE, 1901. No. 1 



JUNE. 



No price is set on the lavish summer; 

 June may be had by the poorest comer. 



And what is so rare as a day in June? 



Then, if ever, come perfect days; 

 Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 



And over it softly her warm ear lays: 

 Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

 We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; 

 Every clod feels a stir of might, 



An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

 And, groping blindly above it for light, 



Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 

 The flush of life may well be seen 



Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 

 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 



The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 

 And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 



To be some happy creature's palace; 

 The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 



Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 

 And lets his illumined being o'errun 



With the deluge of summer it receives; 

 His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 

 And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; 

 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 

 In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? 



— James Russell Lowell, " The Vision of Sir Launfal." 



