60 Bird Day Book 



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THE WOOD PEWEE 



-♦^^ 



IN OLD deserted orchards, 

 A riot of neglect, 

 In solitudes of arching woods, 



By streamlets which reflect 

 Long overhanging branches 



With sunshine filtering through, 

 A plaintive, tender, wistful note 



May flutter down to you. 

 Perchance upon some leafless bough 



Near a woodland path, you'll see 

 A tiny bird of olive brown, 



The gentle wood pewee. 



Such pathos in his long-drawn note. 



You feel impelled to wait 

 To comfort him ; and if you call, 



He'll answer you. His mate 

 Sits on her lichen-covered nest, — 



Most exquisite, — while near 

 He hovers, and he breathes to her, 



"Pe-wee! Pe-wee! Here!" 

 Now far away his voice is heard, — 



From sadness never free; 

 As from an over-burdened heart 



He murmurs, "Pee-a-wee." 



—A. B. B. 



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