IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
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/ 
The sun was now sinking low in the western sky, casting 
golden rays upon the tallest of the forest trees. The evening 
“prayer” of a wood thrush as he gently thanked for the gifts 
of another parting day, was the last song I heard as I left 
the wood. 
'\ 
‘From all the misty morning air, there comes a Summer sound, 
murmur as of waters from skies, and trees, and ground. 
'■/'y^^he birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo. 
D o & 
\\ Voo, 
Wo 1 y 
til 
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■ ,/ 
j-i v 
R. W. Gilder. 
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