88 THE HUMAN SIDE OF BIRDS 



But an empty vaunt, 

 A thing wherein we feel 

 There is some hidden want." 



Not all the poets of antiquity, nor any of his 

 illustrious contemporaries, to his mind possessed 

 musical powers equal or comparable to the wild 

 bird, with its "profuse strains of unpremeditated 

 art." 



To us who are accustomed to the songs of birds 

 in every woodland the thought perhaps never pre- 

 sented itself: What a dreary world it would be 

 without the music of the birds ! The city park, the 

 suburban wood and grove, would be desolate in- 

 deed, without the song of a single bird. The deep 

 primeval forest, with its weird and gloomy shades, 

 would be hke a place of horror and magic without 

 the chorus of a thousand happy birds to proclaim 

 in many keys the joys of life. Were they not there, 

 only the unaccompanied chanting of the brook, and 

 the whisper of the winds in the tree-tops, and the 

 occasional scream of a beast of prey would greet 

 the ear. There would seem a deathlike stillness in 

 spite of the other sounds. A forest without birds 

 would be a vast dark mausoleum, silent and forbid- 

 ding, though splendid. They are a necessary part 

 of nature's domain; and a sylvan retreat, decked as 



