110 PBPACTON 



tie-heads by the roadside; the little indigo- bird, 

 facing the torrid sun of August and singing through 

 all the livelong summer day ; the contented musical 

 soliloquy of the vireo, like the whistle of a hoy at 

 his work, heard through all our woods from May to 

 September : — 



" Pretty green worm, where are yon ? 

 Dusky-winged moth, how fare you, 

 When wind and rain are in the tree ? 

 Cheeryo, cheerebly, chee, 

 Shadow and sun one are to me. 

 Mosquito and gnat, beware you, 

 Saucy chipmunk, how dare you 

 Climb to my nest in the maple-tree, 

 And dig up the corn 

 At noon and at morn ? 

 Cheeryo, cheerebly, chee." 



Or the phcebe-bird, with her sweet April call and 

 mossy nest under the bridge or woodshed, or under 

 the shelving rocks; or the brown thrasher — mock- 

 ing thrush — calling half furtively, half archly from 

 the treetop back in the bushy pastures: "Croquet, 

 croquet, hit it, hit it, come to me, come to me, 

 tight it, tight it, you 're out, you 're out, " with 

 many musical interludes; or the chewink, rustling 

 the leaves and peering under the bushes at you; 

 or the pretty little oven-bird, walking round and 

 round you in the woods, or suddenly soaring above 

 the treetops, and uttering its wild lyrical strain; 

 or, farther south, the whistling redbird, with his 

 crest and military bearing, — these and many others 

 should be full of suggestion and inspiration to our 

 poets. It is only lately that the robin's song has 



