THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS* 
That note — that summer note — I know ; 
It wakes, at once, and soothes, my wo, 
I see those woods — I see that stream — 
I see — ah ! still prolong that dream, 
Still with thy song those scenes renew, 
Tho' through my tears they reach my view. 
No more now, at my lonely meal. 
While thou art by, alone I'll feel ; 
For soon, devoid of all distrust, 
Thou'lt learn to sip the sparkling juice. 
And when (our short collation o'er) 
Some favourite volume I explore, 
Be't work of poet or of sage. 
Safe thou shalt hop across the page ; 
Unchecked shall flit o*er VirgiFs groves, 
Or flutter 'mid Tibullus' loves ; 
Thus, heedless of the raving blast, 
Thou'lt dwell with me till winter's past ; 
And when the primrose tells 'tis spring, 
And when the thrush begins to sing — 
Soon as I hear the woodland song. 
Freed thou shalt join the vocal throng. 
