BIRD SONGS 59 



Dank with the shadow-tide circles my brow ; 

 Come, ere oblivion speed to me, flying 

 Swifter than thou ! " 



We lean our elbows on the gate and, 

 with our chin between our palms, peer 

 through the dusk to where the last song- 

 ster is pouring forth in subdued notes 

 the closing vesper. We wait for another 

 repetition of those notes but all is still, 

 save the "sleigh-bells" that echo from 

 the marsh where the hyla sings. 



We must step into Maine for a mo- 

 ment, although on the Birds' Highway dur- 

 ing migration we hear it singing, to listen 

 to the chant of another 

 familiar bird, the white- 

 throated sparrow. As we 

 hearkened to the robins at 

 sundown we will listen 

 to the white-throats at sun- 

 dawn. Perched on the top 

 of a low spruce, bathed in 

 the first beams of the morning light, we 

 shall find this little minstrel sitting, and 

 hear wafted to us on the dewy morning 

 air his plaintive, tremulous, far-off sound- 

 ing " Pea-pea-peabody — peabody — pea- 

 body." And with the song, although it 



