2 
WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIRDS. 
sprig — with such unconscious earnestness — gushing out 
strains that are to chime the solemn dance of systems! 
Mj^stery is all around us. Who knows but that these 
things be ? 
Whether or no, it is a marvellous reality to hear birds 
singing. If you look at them while they do it, with their 
upturned bills, their rapt, softened, half-closed eyes, their 
bodies quivering in the ecstatic travail — you cannot but feel 
in reverential mood, and hear your own rebuked heart whis- 
pering "let us pray!" 
What ! When their shrill, melodious clamorings go up 
with the mists before the sun, and make his coming over 
earth to be with light in music, are they not chaunting mat- 
ins to the God of all ? 
When he hastens to decline, and from the spires of tree- 
tops everywhere the Thrush and Kobin sing a low-voiced 
hymn — ^is it not a ^'esper-symphonie of thanks ? 
And when, in the deep night, the Oriole, in dreamy twit- 
terings, and the Mocking-bird, in clear, triumphing notes, 
stir the dark shadows of the cold, gray moon to the wild 
pulsing of unmeasured chords — is it not a worship fitting to 
that mystic time ? 
Verily, they symbol to us a spiritual and a holier life ! 
The purpose of their being is in prayer and praise, just as 
they say it is with Angels. 
They do not taste the fruits of earth, and revel in the 
warm kisses of the day unthankfully ; but when their little 
hearts — ^forever drinking love — fill up to the brim, they let 
their cadent falness go towards heaven. 
They sing when they have eaten — ^they sing when they 
have drunk — while they are waking, music always trembles 
at their breasts — they pay back the caressing sun in sweet- 
ness — and when they sleep, and the shining beams are show- 
ered silently and pale, down from the bosom of the darkness 
over them, their dreams break out in momentary song. 
They take the berry, flushing underneath green leaves, 
