OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
With bursting buds begin to swell, 
When airs caress and May is new, 
Oh, then my shy bird sings so well! 
Because the blood-roots flock in white, 
And blossomed branches scent the air, 
And mounds with trillium flags are dight 
And dells with violets dim and rare; 
Because such velvet leaves unclose, 
And newborn rills all chiming ring, 
And blue the sun-kissed river flows— 
My timid bird is forced to sing. 
A joyful chorus lilted clear— 
Four notes—then falls the frolic song, 
And memories of a vanished year 
The wistful cadences prolong; 
‘* A vanished year—O, heart too sore— 
I cannot sing; ’’ thus ends the lay; 
Long silence, then awakes once more 
His song, ecstatic of the May! 
THE SPARROWS. 
The Sparrows are interpreters 
Unto this heart of mine 
Of love beyond all human thoughts 
My Father’s love divine. 
For not one falls without his care, 
Yet Christ died not for them! 
O timid heart it is thyself 
That dares thyself condemn. 
ANON. 
