ILLINOIS AUDUBON SOCIETY 19 



c The Chickadee 



A puff of snow-dust from the twig 

 And then appears the periwig 



Of shining black of chickadee. 

 He puts faint-heartedness to rout 

 Because he is himself so stout 

 Of heart — nay, were he twice as big, 



'T would pass belief of one so wee. 

 I've seen him oft — and so have you — 

 Pierce the dead mullein through and through 



To find some fat cold-storage grub. 

 He puts all daintiness to shame — 

 For daintier than that feathered frame 



There nothing is. Rub-dub-a-dub ! 

 The feast is spread at his tattoo. 

 Most tender are the brave — ah, me ! 

 When alder and witch hazel bloom, 



In all the woods is any room 

 For other wandering lover's plea 

 Save his who makes such sweet complaint 



That, were she twenty times a saint, 

 At last must melt his chickadee. 



Edward R. Ford 



