OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 9 
BIRD WISDOM. 
OW does the last year’s bird that never saw 
An egg,'a fledgeling, or a half-built nest, 
Know to obey her species’ annual law, 
And when the snows melt and the rivulets thaw 
To start upon her busy April quest. 
And gather straws, and threads, and bits of moss, 
Tangles of wool from cruel pasture burrs, 
Plumes dropped from wings which never knew the loss— 
And shape of them, with limber twigs, across, 
A shelter for the brood that may be hers? 
Who bids her bind it close with grassy strings 
To hollow it and round it with her breast, 
And line it with all soft and kindly things, 
Even the down from underneath her wings— 
Until it is a smooth and perfect nest ? 
And when its tiny treasures greet her sight, 
Those silent spheres of future joy and song, 
Soft blue, or sprinkled brown, or pearly white, 
Who tells her to protect them day and night, 
And keep them hidden close and warm so long ? 
BS: “Who teaches her to cherish them so well, 
¢ To brood and watch the frag 
< < 2 . ile things above ? 
me cy Wi ER og f How does she know the germ 
oS $ = WEF 
Ss within will swell 
And gather force to. break the 
brittle shell, 
ty And be a living thing for her 
to love? 
