20 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
The cuckoo then comes, and informs us that Spring 
has arrived, — that he has journeyed to us, borne by 
gentle gales, in sunny days, — that fragrant flowers 
are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling 
of gratulation and of joy. The children mark this 
well known sound, spring out, and cuckoo ! 
cuckoo !" as they gambol down the lane. The very 
ploughboy bids him welcome in the early morn. It 
is hardly spring without the cuckoo's song; and 
having told his tale, he has voice for no more — is 
silent or away. 
Then comes the dark, swift-winged martin, glanc- 
ing through the air, that seems afraid to visit our un- 
certain clime ; he comes, though late, and hurries 
through his business here, eager again to depart, all 
day long in agitation and precipitate flight. The 
bland zephyrs of the spring have no charms with 
them, but, basking and careering in the sultry gleams 
of June and July, they associate in throngs, and, 
screaming, dash round the steeple, or the ruined 
tower, to serenade their nesting mates ; and glare 
and heat are in their train. When the fervour of 
summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. 
The evening robin, from the summit of some leafless 
