BIRDS mv NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. XV. MARCH, 1904. No. 3 



A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY FOREVER. 



A thing of beauty is a joy forever; 



Its loveliness increases; it will never 



Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep 



A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 



Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 



Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing 



A flowery band to bind us to the earth. 



Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth 



Of noble natures, of the gloomy days. 



Of all the unhealthy and o'erdarkened ways 



Made for our searching; yes, in spite of all. 



Some shape of beauty moves away the pall 



From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon. 



Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 



For simple sheep ; and such are dafifodils 



With the green world they live in; and clear rills 



That for themselves a cooling covert make 



'Gainst the hot season; the mid- forest brake. 



Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms; 



And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 



We have imagined for the mighty dead; 



All lovely tales that we have heard or read ; 



An endless fountain of immortal drink, 



Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 



— John Keats, "Endymion/' 



97 



