A BIRD ANTHOLOGY FROM LOWELL. 253 



" For with a lark's heart he doth tower, 

 By a glorious upward instinct drawn ; 

 No bee nestles deeper in the flower 

 Than he in the bursting rose of dawn.'' 



It almost throws one into " a midsummer night's 

 dream " to read this picturesque line, — 



" The clouds like swans drift down the streaming atmosphere." 



That must have been an expressive face indeed 

 whose features were 



" As full of motion as a nest 

 That palpitates with unfledged birds," 



albeit one may be permitted to hope, without irrev- 

 erence, that it made a more attractive picture than 

 did the callow youngsters gaping and wabbling in 

 their nursery. But here is a delineation of bird 

 life so graphically and richly colored that one longs 

 for the brush of the artist to transfer it to canvas. 

 Listen ! Usten ! There is an exhilarant in the 

 atmosphere. 



" 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 .' " 



The last two Hnes, by the way, are in perfect keep- 

 ing with Mr. Lowell's generous instincts, which were 

 always on the side of the lowly and unappreciated. 



