Part 31 (1/2)

Look where the gra.s.s is gay With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers; And search, from spray to spray, The leafy laurel bowers, For well he loves the laurels and the flowers.

Find him, but do not dwell, With eyes too fond, on the fair form you see, Nor love his song too well; Send him, at once, to me, Or leave him to the air and liberty.

For only from my hand He takes the seed into his golden beak, And all unwiped shall stand The tears that wet my cheek, Till I have found the wanderer I seek.

My sight is darkened o'er, Whene'er I miss his eyes, which are my day, And when I hear no more The music of his lay, My heart in utter sadness faints away.

_From the Spanish of_ CAROLINA CORONADO DE PERRY.

_Translated by_ W. C. BRYANT.

THE BIRDS MUST KNOW.

The birds must know. Who wisely sings Will sing as they; The common air has generous wings, Songs make their way.

No messenger to run before, Devising plan; No mention of the place or hour To any man; No waiting till some sound betrays A listening ear; No different voice, no new delays, If steps draw near.

”What bird is that? Its song is good.”

And eager eyes Go peering through the dusky wood, In glad surprise.

Then late at night, when by his fire The traveller sits, Watching the flame grow brighter, higher, The sweet song flits By s.n.a.t.c.hes through his weary brain To help him rest; When next he goes that road again An empty nest On leafless bough will make him sigh, ”Ah me! last spring Just here I heard, in pa.s.sing by, That rare bird sing!”

But while he sighs, remembering How sweet the song, The little bird on tireless wing, Is borne along In other air; and other men With weary feet, On other roads, the simple strain Are finding sweet.

The birds must know. Who wisely sings Will sing as they; The common air has generous wings, Songs make their way.

H. H.

THE BIRD KING.

Dost thou the monarch eagle seek?

Thou'lt find him in the tempest's maw, Where thunders with tornadoes speak, And forests fly as though of straw; Or on some lightning-splintered peak, Sceptred with desolation's law, The shrubless mountain in his beak, The barren desert in his claw.

ALGER'S _Oriental Poetry_.

SHADOWS OF BIRDS.

In darkened air, alone with pain, I lay. Like links of heavy chain The minutes sounded, measuring day, And slipping lifelessly away.

Sudden across my silent room A shadow darker than its gloom Swept swift; a shadow slim and small, Which poised and darted on the wall, And vanished quickly as it came.

A shadow, yet it lit like flame; A shadow, yet I heard it sing, And heard the rustle of its wing, Till every pulse with joy was stirred; It was the shadow of a bird!

Only the shadow! Yet it made Full summer everywhere it strayed; And every bird I ever knew Back and forth in the summer flew, And breezes wafted over me The scent of every flower and tree; Till I forgot the pain and gloom And silence of my darkened room.

Now, in the glorious open air I watch the birds fly here and there; And wonder, as each swift wing cleaves The sky, if some poor soul that grieves In lonely, darkened, silent walls, Will catch the shadow as it falls!

H. H.

THE BIRD AND THE s.h.i.+P.