152 OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
The softly warbled song 
Comes through the pleasant woods, and colored wings 
Are glancing in the golden sun, along 
The forest openings. 
Miss Sweet said: ‘“‘ The birds who inspire the poets 
are not those of brilliant plumage, but those of sweetest 
song. I read a verse the other day about bird language 
that is very sweet: 
One language the birds have, one. 
They use it by day, they use it by night 
They use it in shadow and sun. 
’*Tis the language of love, the same, the same, 
Wherever its harmony grows. 
‘““A great favorite of mine is a poem about bird 
songs, entitled: 
IN SUMMER TIME. 
BY SIDNEY DAYRE. 
‘* Chickety wee kewee kewee’’— 
That was the sound that came to me; 
“ Riddledee ree and fiddlede fjt’’— 
Some in the trees and some in the sky. 
“* [Villicum wink’ and ‘‘ rinkety rink” 
Now, pray, will you tell me what you think 
All those birds could have meant to say 
As JI walked out in the woods today, 
Ah! such music you never heard— 
But you couldn’t have told a single word. 
