74 Bird Day Book 



THE INDIGO BUNTING 



HIS plumage is bright as the sapphire blue 

 That dwells in the depths of Italy's sea, 

 And blends with the hidden emerald hue 



To glint and glisten shimmeringly. 

 His song bursts forth like the brooklet's rush, 

 Or murmuring waves' sweet melody; 

 And even when falls midsummer's hush, 



The indigo-bird sings rapturously: 

 "See, see, sweet, sweet, chur, chur; 

 Wish, wish, wish — chur, chur, chur." 



—A. B. B. 



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OUT IN THE FIELD WITH GOD 



THE little cares that fretted me, 

 I lost them yesterday. 

 Among the fields above the sea, 



Among the winds at play. 

 Among the lowing of the herds, 



The rustling of the trees. 

 Among the singing of the birds, 

 The humming of the bees. 



The foolish fears of what may happen 



I cast them all away. 

 Among the clover-scented grass. 



Among the new-mown hay, 

 Among the husking of the corn 



Where drowsy poppies nod, 

 Where ill thoughts die and good are born, 



Out in the fields with God. 



— Elisabeth Barrett Browning. 



