WAYS OF NATURE 



pleasure to a countryman, though these sounds have 

 not the quahty of real music. It is the same with the 

 call of the migrating geese or the voice of any wild 

 thing : our pleasure in them is entirely apart from 

 any considerations of music. Why does the wild 

 flower, as we chance upon it in the woods or bogs, 

 give us more pleasure than the more elaborate 

 flower of the garden or lawn ? Because it comes as 

 a surprise, offers a greater contrast with its sur- 

 roundings, and suggests a spirit in wild nature that 

 seems to take thought of itself and to aspire to 

 beautiful forms. 



The songs of caged birds are always disappoint- 

 ing, because such birds have nothing but their musi- 

 cal qualities to recommend them to us. We have 

 separated them from that which gives quality and 

 meaning to their songs. One recalls Emerson's 

 lines : — 



" I thought the sparrow's note from heaven. 

 Singing at dawn on the alder bough; 

 I brought him home, in his nest, at even; 

 He sings the song, but it cheers not now. 

 For I did not bring home the river and sky; — 

 He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye." 



I have never yet seen a caged bird that I wanted, — 

 at least, not on account of its song, — nor a wild 

 flower that I wished to transfer to my garden. A 

 caged skylark will sing its song sitting on a. bit of 

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