THE HERON. 
In the thyme so richly fragrant, 
In the heath that blooms so fair, 
And list the quaint bird-voices 
From the moorland and the air. 
All those that lead their sweetest lives 
Far from the haunt of men, 
Are sending forth their gladness 
In many a wild cry then. 
The curlew and the plover, 
The gor-cock on the brae, 
Send, with the singing of the lark, 
Their voices far away! 
The coot and moor-hen from the reeds, 
Or where the waters run 
Crystal and warm and glittering, 
O’er the pebbles in the sun. 
And from the air, in circling flight, 
Comes suddenly the crowd 
Of all the wild-duck army, 
With pinions rustling loud ; 
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