The Parula 47 
Crashing thunder shakes the forests, 
In their swinging nests the mothers 
Cover close their downy darlings, 
Listen startled to the groanings 
Of the prophets, as they murmur, 
"See — we told you — storms will dash 
you ; 
Storms will crush you, rain will drown you." 
When the sunlight greets the morning, 
Safely swing the tiny hammocks, 
And the gayly clad Parulas, 
Flying through the dripping forests, 
Sing aloud their joyous message, 
" Nest we where no owl can find us, 
Nest we where no hawk can see us, 
Nest we where no jay can rob us, 
Nest we where no feet can reach us." 
But the prophets still will murmur, 
Day and night, until the winter. 
Night and day, until the summer, 
On the folly of the warblers. 
On the dangers of the swampland. 
