OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 5S 
What lesson doth the springtide teach, 
As from the mould the blooms arise ! 
How life begun below shall reach 
Eternal life beyond the skies; 
These souls of ours, in blissful hours, 
Bloom ever in God’s Paradise. 
A BAND OF BLUEBIRDS. 
(fn Autumn.) 
By WM. H. HAYNE. 
Oh, happy band of Bluebirds, 
Brave prophets of the spring, 
Amid the tall and tufted cane, 
How blithesomely you sing! 
What message haunts your music 
*Mid Autumn’s dusky reign ! 
You tell us nature stores her seeds 
To give them back in grain. 
Your throats are gleeful fountains 
Through which a song-tide flows,— 
Your voices greet me in the woods, 
_ On every wind that blows! 
I dream that heaven invites you 
To bid the earth ‘‘Good-bye;’’ Mae 
For in your wings vou seem ee ee SF te 
to hold ica ey 
A portion of the sky! ao 
Oh, happy band of Bluebirds! 
You could not long remain, 
73 
