BLUE-BIRD. 



59 



justice to his name, and endear him to us still more by the tender- 

 ness of verse, as has been done to his representative in Britain, the 

 Robin Red-breast. A small acknowledgment of this kind I have 

 to offer, which the reader I hope will excuse as a tribute to rural 

 innocence. 



When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, 

 Green meadows and brown furrow'd fields re-appearing, 



The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore. 

 And cloud-cleaving geese to the Lakes are a-steering ; 



When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing; 

 When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing, 



O then comes the Blue-bird, the herald of spring! 

 And hails with his warblings the charms of the season. 



Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring; 

 Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the weather; 



The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring. 

 And spicewood and sassafras budding together; 



O then to your gardens ye housewives repair! 

 Your walks border up ; sow and plant at your leisure ; 



The Blue-bird will chant from his box such an air. 

 That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure. 



He flits thro the orchard, he visits each tree. 

 The red flowering peach and the apple's sweet blossoms ; 



He snaps up destroyers wherever they be, 

 And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms; 



He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours ; 

 The worms from their webs where they riot and welter; 



His song and his services freely are ours, 

 And all that he asks is, in summer a shelter. 



