THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
299 
Delightful visitant ! with thee, 
I hail the time of flowers, 
And hear the sound of music sweet 
From birds among tlie bowers. 
The school-boy wandering through the wood 
To pull the primrose gay, 
Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, 
And imitates thy lay. 
What time the pea puts forth her bloom, 
Thou fliest thy vocal vale, 
An annual guest in other lands. 
Another spring to hail. 
Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green. 
Thy sky is ever clear, 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 
No winter in thy year. 
Oh, could I fly, I^d fly with thee ! 
We'd make, with social wing. 
Our annual visit o'er the globe, 
Companions of the spring. 
Logan. 
