BIRDS. 
In the heather on the hill; 
All among the mountain thyme ; 
By the little brook-sides, 
Where the sparkling waters chime ; 
In the crag; and on the peak, 
Splintered, savage, wild, and bare, 
There the bird with wild wing 
Wheeleth through the air. 
Wheeleth through the breezy air, 
Singing, screaming in his flight, 
Calling to his bird-mate, 
In a troubleless delight! 
In the green and leafy wood, 
Where the branching ferns up-curl, 
Soon as is the dawning, 
Wakes the mavis and the merle ; 
Wakes the cuckoo on the bough; 
Wakes the jay with ruddy breast ; 
Wakes the mother ring-dove 
Brooding on her nest! 
Oh, the sunny summer time! 
Oh, the leafy summer time! 
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