Birds of Song and Story

In the preceding chapters we have said little about the female or mother birds. In referring to a single individual we have used the pronoun he, as if "he" and no other were wor...

Sing away, aye, sing away. Merry little bird, Always gayest of the gay. Though a woodland roundelay You ne'er sung nor heard; Though your life from youth to age Passes in a narr...

Robin, Sir Robin, gay-vested knight, Now you have come to us, summer's in sight; You never dream of the wonders you bring-- Visions that follow the flash of your wing. How all t...

The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives. His mate feels th...

Grudge not the wheat Which hunger forces birds to eat; Your blinded eyes, worst foes to you, Can't see the good which sparrows do. Did not poor birds with watching rounds Pick u...

'Nuff said; June's bridesman, poet o' the year, Gladness on wings, the bobolink is here; Half hid in tiptop apple-blooms he sings, He climbs against the breeze with quiverin' wi...

Think, every morning when the sun peeps through The dim, leaf-latticed window of the grove. How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old, melodious madrigals of love. And when y...

A rosy flush creeps up the sky, The birds begin their symphony. I hear the clear, triumphant voice Of the robin, bidding the world rejoice. The vireos catch the theme of the son...

Have you ever heard of the sing-away bird, That sings where the run-away river Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills That stand in the sunshine and shiver? Oh, sin...

He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree. The red-flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms; He snaps up destroyers wherever they be. And seizes the caitiffs that...

Wit, sophist, songster, Yorick of thy tribe, Thou sportive satirist of nature's school; To thee the palm of scoffing we ascribe, Arch-mocker, and Mad Abbot of Misrule. For such...

The birds must know. Who wisely sings Will sing as they. The common air has generous wings: Songs make their way. What bird is that? The song is good, And eager eyes Go peering...

It is a large tribe, of numerous species in America, but the scarlet tanager alone may well be termed the Red Man of the forest. Native of the New World, shy, a gypsy in his way...

"Under the greenwood-tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither; Here shall he see No enemy But...

Thrush, thrush, have mercy on thy little bill; I play to please myself, albeit ill; And yet--though how it comes to pass I cannot tell-- My singing pleases all the world as well.

He is not always the cat-bird, O no! He is one of our sweetest singers before day has fairly opened her eyes. Before it is light enough to be sure that what one sees be a bird o...