I20 Twelve Months With 



When I hear 



A song like a bird laugh, blithe and clear, 



As though of some airy jest he has heard 



The last and most delightful word; 



A laugh as fresh in the August haze 



As it was in the full-voiced April days; 



Then I know that my heart is stirred 



By the laugh-like song of the Indigo bird. 



Joy on the branch and joy in the sky. 

 And naught between but the breezes high. 

 And naught so glad on the breezes heard 

 As the gay, gay note of the Indigo bird." 



The last of this trio of bright little midsummer 

 birds is by common consent one of the most beauti- 

 ful of all our birds — the scarlet tanager. It is 

 the common "redbird" of our boyhood, almost as 

 well known as the robin, altho' far less common. 

 Except for black wings and tail, its body is almost 

 wholly a brilliant scarlet, and no aids to his iden- 

 tification beyond this are at all necessary. 



Many poems have been written in praise of 

 him, from which I select the following, by Joel 

 Benton : 



"A ball of fire shoots through the tamarack 

 In scarlet splendor, on voluptuous wings; 

 Delirious joy the pyrotechnist brings, 

 Who makes for us high summer's almanac. 

 How instantly the red coat hurtles back! 

 No fiercer flame has flashed beneath the sky. 



