1 6 The Ruffed Grouse 
From the hemlocks in the hollow 
Swift emerging comes the partridge ; 
Not a sound betrays her starting, 
Not a sound betrays her lighting 
In the birches by the wayside, 
In her favored place for budding. 
When the twilight turns to darkness, 
When the fox's bark is sounding, 
From her buds the partridge hastens, 
Seeks the soft snow by the hazels, 
Burrows in its sheltering masses, 
Burrows where no owl can find her. 
Ah, how welcome is ^ the springtime ! 
With its hoard of buds expanding, 
With its berries left uncovered 
By the melting of the snow-fields, 
With its sweet, pure western breezes, 
With the perfume of the mayflower. 
With the singing of the finches, 
With the music of the waters. 
