I02 With the Birds and Poets 



And these exquisite lines by John Vance 

 Cheney : 



"Voyager on golden air, 

 Type of all that's fleet and fair, 

 Incarnate gem, 

 Live diadem ! 

 Stay, forget lost Paradise, 

 Star-bird fallen from happy skies — 



Vanished I Earth is not his home. 

 Onward, onward must he roam, 



Swift passion-thought. 



In rapture wrought ; 

 Issue of the soul's desire. 

 Plumed with beauty and with fire." 



As June departs this picture from Lowell's "Sir 

 Launfal" remains in my memory as the type and 

 symbol of this home month of the birds : 



"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?" 



