The Crow 
5 
Midway in the month of roses, 
When beside the brook is blooming, 
Pure and shy, the sweet Hnn^a ; 
In the pines, among the beeches, 
On the boulders, cawing, scolding, 
All the crows in Crowlands gather. 
Then it is the young are learning 
How to stand and beat their pinions, 
How to caw, and croak, and bluster. 
Happy days those days in June-tide ; 
Days of feasting, days of plunder. 
When the goldenrod uplifted 
As a wayside benediction 
Cheers the traveler on his journey 
Through the sultry hours of August, 
Deep within the forest's reaches. 
In the shadow of the ledges, 
Where the mosses drip with moisture, 
Where the trout brook softly splashes, 
Where the big-eyed flying squirrels 
Undisturbed dream out. the daylight. 
Gather crows in friendly concourse. 
