With greenish gold its vest is fringed, 

 Its tiny cap is ebon-tinged, 

 With ivory pale its wir^ are barred, 

 And its dark eyes are tender starred. 

 'Dear bird,' I said, Svhat is thy name ?' 

 And thrice the mournful answer came, 

 So faint and far and yet so near — 

 Tewee! Pewee! Pewee!'" 



— Trowbridge. 



OCTOBER 



This brown month surely belongs to the sparrows. 

 "Close beside my garden gate 

 Hops the sparrow, light, sedate." 

 * * * "There he seems to peak and peer, 

 And to twitter, too, and tilt 

 The bare branches in between 

 With a fond, familiar mien." 



NOVEMBER 



In cold weather the little gray Chickadee cheers us with his "tiny voice" 

 "Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, 

 Chick-chickadedee ! Saucy note. 

 Out of sound heart and merry throat! 

 This scrap of valor, just for play. 

 Fronts the north wind with waistcoat gray." 



— Emerson. 



DECEMBER 



The sleep of the earth has begun under the white, thick snow. The Owl 

 abroad by night — 



"A flitting shape of fluffy down 

 In the shadow of the woods, 

 *Tu-wit! tu-whoo!' I wish I knew; 



Tell me the riddle, I beg — 

 Whether the egg was before the Owl 

 Or the Owl before the egg?" 



— Lathrop. 



657 



