CHAPTEE VI 



ON THE SONGS OF BIKDS 



In this chapter I shall be on ground that is in one 

 sense familiar to every one. Even those who can 

 barely distinguish the song of a Blackbird from that 

 of a Wren have at least some idea of what a bird's 

 voice sounds like. To almost all of us the songs of 

 birds are as welcome in spring as the wild roses are 

 in June or the fireside at Christmas. And may we 

 not add that, just as birds are of all animals the most 

 beautiful and fascinating in their movements and 

 habits, so of all the sounds which wild nature brings 

 to the human ear their songs are the most powerful 

 in their contribution to our happiness? Men high 

 and low, rich and poor, have always felt this, and 

 always will feel it ; admitting, half unconsciously 

 perhaps, the spell of the music in spring, and missing 

 it in winter from the leafless trees — those "bare 

 ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang." 



I have called these utterances music, and the ex- 

 quisite line I have just quoted from Shakespeare 



