THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
Here the pretty prattler ending, 
Spread his wings to soar away ; 
But a cruel hawk, descending, 
Pounced him up, — a helpless prey ! 
— Couldst thou not, poor wagtail, see 
That the hawk was made for thee 1 
J. Montgomery. 
ODE TO THE CUCKOO. 
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove ! 
Thou messenger of spring ! 
Now Heaven repairs thy vernal seat, 
And woods thy welcome sing. 
What time the daisy decks the green. 
Thy certain voice we hear ; 
Hast thou a star to guide thy path^ 
Or mark the rolling year ? 
