Bird Songs & Poems



Birds Home
BIRDS IN SUMMER
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about in each leafy tree;
In the leafy trees so broad and tall,
Like a green and beautiful palace hail,
With its airy chambers light and boon,
That open to sun and stars and moon;
That open to the bright blue sky,
And the frolicsome winds as they wander by.
To pass through the bowers of the silver cloud;
To sing in the thunder-balls aloud;
To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight
With the upper cloud-winds—oh, what delight!
Oh, what would I give like a bird, to go
Right on through the arch of a sunlit bow,
And see how the water-drops are kissed
Into green and yellow and amethyst!
MAZY Howin.



Ye have nests on the mountains, all rugged and stark
Ye have nests in the forest, all tangled and dark;
Ye build and ye brood ‘neath the cottagers’ eaves
And ye sleep on the sod ‘mid the bonnie green leaves;
Ye hide in the heather, ye lurk in the brake,
Ye dine in the sweet flags that shadow the lake;
Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard decked land,
Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate strand.”
Birds and All Nature, Copyright Igoo, by A. W. Mumford, Chicago.



“Little bird! Little bird! who’ll, guide thee
Over the hills and over the seas?
Foolish one! Come in the house to stay,
For I’m very sure you’ll lose your way.”
“Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me
Over the hills and over the sea.
I will be free as the rushing’ air,
And sing of sunshine every where.”
—LYDIA MARIA CHILDS.




High on the top of an old pine tree
Broods a mother-dove with her young ones three.
Warm over them is her soft downy breast,
And they sing so sweetly in their nest.
“Coo,” say the little ones, “Coo,” says she.
All in their nest on the old pine-tree.

Fast grow the young ones, day and night,’
Till their wings are plumed for a longer flight;
Till unto them at last draws nigh
The time when they all must say “Good-bye.”
Then “Coo,” say the little ones, “Coo,” says she,
And away they fly from the old pine-tree.
Andante sostenuto.




BIRDLING’S GOOD-NIGHT TO THE FLOWERS
Shadows creep along the sky,
Birdies now must homeward fly;
Hear the songs they sing to greet
All their friends—the flowers sweet.
Good-night darling mignonette,
Good-night little violet;
Good-night pinks and four o’clock,
Good-night, homely holly-hock!
Good-night lily; good-night rose;
Good-night every flower that blows;
Thank you for your lovely bloom,
Thank you for your sweet perfume.
From Songs for Little Children by Eleanor Smith.
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