64 
BIRDS 
only how unusually well he sings. I my¬ 
self erred in this manner, and not till I 
had seen the bird in the midst of his 
solemn hymn—a hard thing to do, I as¬ 
sure you—was I aware that my Wood- 
Thrush had a superior. I believe so good 
an observer as Thoreau has confounded 
the songs of the two birds, as he speaks 
of having heard the Wood-Thrush in the 
forests of Northern Maine, where the law 
of geographical distribution would lead 
one to look for only the Hermit. 
The song of this Thrush is of unparal¬ 
leled sweetness and sublimity. There is 
a calmness and solemnity about it that 
suggests in Nature perpetual Sabbath 
and perennial joy. How vain seem our 
hurry and ambition! Clear and serene, 
strong and melodious, falling softly, yet 
flowing far, these notes inspire me with 
a calm, sacred enthusiasm. I hear him 
most in the afternoon, but occasionally 
at nightfall he “pours his pure soprano/' 
“Deepening the silence with diviner 
calm." 
