44 Bird Day Book 



THE BIRDS 



TIS spring and the birds are here again, 

 Who blithely carol forth their lay; 

 Each morn they swell their warbling throats 

 To greet the new, the budding day. 



The robin on a topmost spray, 



With breast of red and coat of brown, 

 Sings gaily at the dawn of day, 



A song no care can drown. 



The bluebird flitting here and there, 

 With flash of color and burst of song, 



Sings of a mossy nest so rare, 



On which the sun shines all day long. 



The meadow lark, with song so sweet, 

 Soars toward the vaulted sky and sings 



A lay that thrills with joyousness 



And to our hearts great pleasure brings. 



With carol sweet as silver chimes, 

 O birds, ye heralds of the spring, 



What harmony to us you bring, 

 And gladness in our darkest times. 



— Herbert Wilson. 



