THE BLUEBIRD. 
Soft warbling- note 
From azure throat, 
Float on the gentle air of spring; 
To my quick ear 
It doth appear 
The sweetest of the birds'.that sing. . — C. C. M. 
A bit of heaven itself. — Spofford. 
The bluebird carries the sky on his 
back. — Thoreau. 
Winged lute that we call a bluebird. 
— Rexford. 
The bluebird is the color-bearer of 
the spring brigade. — Wright. 
A wise bluebird 
Puts in his little heavenly word. 
— Lanier. 
The bluebird, shifting his light < load of 
song 
From post to post along the cheerless fence. 
— Lowell. 
It is his gentle, high-bred manner 
and not his azure coat which makes the 
bluebird. — Torrev. 
How can we fail to regard its azure 
except as a fragment from the blue of 
the summer noonday arch? — Silloway. 
The bluebird always bears the na- 
tional colors — red, white, and blue — 
and in its habits is a model of civilized 
bird-life. — Dr. Cooper. 
At the first flash of vernal sun among 
the bare boughs of his old home he 
hies northward to greet it with his song, 
and seems, unlike the oriole, to help 
nature make the spring.— Baskett. 
As he sits on a branch lifting his 
wings there is an elusive charm about 
his sad, quivering tru-al-ly, tru-al-ly. 
Ignoring our presence, he seems pre- 
occupied with unfathomable thoughts 
of field and sky. — Merriam. 
And yonder bluebird, with the earth 
tinge on his breast and the sky tinge 
on his back, did he come down out of 
heaven on that bright March morning 
when he told us so softly and plaint- 
ively that if we pleased, spring had 
come ? — Burroughs. 
He is "true blue," which is as rare a 
color among birds as it is among flowers. 
He is the banner-bearer of bird-land • 
also, and loyally floats the tricolor from 
our trees and telegraph wires; for, be- 
sides being blue, is he not also red and 
white? — Coues. 
THE FIRST BLUEBIRD. 
Jest rain and snow! and rain again! 
And dribble! drip! and blow! 
Then snow! and thaw! and slush! and then 
Some more rain and snow! 
This morning I was 'most afeared 
To wake up — when, I jing! 
I seen the sun shine out and heerd 
The first bluebird of spring! 
Mother she'd raised the winder some; 
And in acrost the orchard come, 
Soft as an angel's wing, 
A breezy, treesy, beesy hum, 
Too sweet fer anything! 
The winter's shroud was rent apart — 
The sun burst forth in glee — 
And when that bluebird sung, my heart 
Hopped out o' bed with me! . 
— Riley. 
LSI 
