30 
NATURE NOTES. 
FIELD-FARES. 
How blue above our head the sky ! 
How brown below the path we tread 
By silent carpet overspread 
From sombre larches standing by, 
The berries in the hedge are red, 
On which the birds should sure have fed, 
Alas ! they long ago have fled, 
^\’ho feel the frost and die. 
But hark ! a foreign note I hear. 
Along the fell, behind the wall, 
A language I must needs recall. 
Old talk made new with every year ! 
O’er northern seas, thro’ sleet and squall. 
These birds have come for festival. 
And on the coral berries fall 
To keep their Christmas cheer. 
With “ tsak-tsak ” high and “ tsak-tsak ” low — 
While perched far off their pickets stand — 
These wandering birds possess the land 
Our Norseman fathers used to know. 
In voice, half quarrel, half command. 
They wrangle on, the robber band — 
Swift-winged Vikings from the strand 
Of ice and winter snow. 
I clap my hands, away they speed ! 
What matters where they rest to-night, 
Be}'ond this vale are berries bright 
And good where’er the}^ wish to feed ! 
They know no law of tenant-right. 
They only know they love the light. 
One law alone can guide their flight — 
The law of Nature’s need. 
Ye red-backed rangers over sea, 
Ye grey-winged rovers of the field, 
\\’ho from what English roses yield 
Find life from lea to lea ! 
Those hearts must sure be hard and steeled 
Who have no founts of faith unsealed 
By your wild carelessness revealed 
This winter morn to me. 
H. D. Rawnsley. 
