THE WOODPECKER. 195 
Or a footfall as light as the breezes, that pass 
Scarcely bending the flowers, he perceives on 
the grass. 
The squirrel above him might chatter and 
chide ; 
And the purple-winged jay scream on every side ; 
The great winds might blow, and the thunder 
might roll, 
Yet the fearless woodpecker still cling to the 
bole ; 
But soon as a footstep that’s human is heard, 
A quick terror springs to the heart of the bird! 
For man, the oppressor and tyrant, has made 
The free harmless dwellers of nature afraid! 
’Neath the fork of the branch, in the tree’s 
hollow bole, 
Has the timid woodpecker crept into his hole ; 
For there is his home in deep privacy hid, 
Like a chamber scooped into a far pyramid ; 
And there is his mate, as secure as can be, 
And his little young woodpeckers deep in the 
tree. 
