842 
WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIEDS. 
Talks not tlie tempests too raging and loud 
When your delicate form to the leafy twig clings ? — 
And is there no hurricane-death where it sings ? 
Art never fearful where the hoarse beasts do growl ? 
Is your little heart with you when the gray wolves do howl ? 
Is Panther your choice when his sweet voice comes out ? 
Or dost sing when soft-wing'd owls are about ? 
When they hoot in answer to savages' whoop — 
While making dark ravages with silent swoop — 
And snapping their horny beaks in that dull gloom^ 
Do they scare thee with thoughts of too warm a tomb, 
Beneath yellow light from their great staring eyes ? 
Is it where things are gentle, night murder flies ? 
Have angels' bright songs any sweeter than thine — 
Or angel art thou, then, my sweet bird, in fine ? 
Thy notes are too mellow for coarse words of mine, 
Thou art braver than conqueror of any bad line ; 
Thou sing'st midst terrors a sad world to refine ; 
The hiss and the horror^ the howl and the roar 
When thy song is triumphing saddens no more ; 
Tell me then, gentle bird, how can you sing so ? 
Ye twitter, and twitter, and twitter a song, 
But will the Avorld let ye go twittering long ? — 
While killing the gentle and pampering wrong, 
They go for cowards and the brutes that are strong ; 
Mean ye a time of lofty story, 
Mean ye a time of peaceful glory ? 
Mean ye a time when hope shall see 
A thought and a deed of benignity ? 
When twittereth, twittereth that small song, 
Bring'st thou the graces and flowers along ? 
Art thou an seolian joy from on high, 
That Cometh here singing that men may not die ? 
Knowest thou aught that is gentle and good 
