Part 4 (1/2)
While the corn is ready to reap.
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
And the lightest hours a-creep.
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
On the edge of the misty deep.
As they lay upon the bank, to their surprise a procession of birds came along, the two foremost being fine handsome thrushes, carrying a large banner of ivy leaves, on which was inscribed, in letters of red clover, the following legend:--
BEAN-FEAST OF BIRDS FROM LONDON AND THE SUBURBS.
”Fancy,” said Maude, ”all the birds of London Town come to Fairy-land for a change of air!”
”And why not?” asked a saucy c.o.c.k-sparrow. ”We can't be always singing the same song, so we come here for a change of air, and of course when we get a change of air we return with new melodies. If you were to Reed your books properly you would know that the Pipes of our Organs--our vocal Organs--want tuning occasionally.”
Then, without any warning, they all struck up a new song, and marvel of marvels, instead of merely singing like ordinary birds, they sang the words as well. But before giving you the lyric that they voiced so melodiously I must tell you the names of some of the birds they saw, and if you live in London or any large town you will perhaps know several of them by sight, as well as by cognomen. First in the throng were the Mistle-Thrushes and the song Thrushes; the Redwing and the Fieldfare, the Blackbird and the Redstart, and the Redbreast with faithful Jenny Wren; the large family of t.i.tmouse and the merry Chiff-chaff, with his pleasant little song of ”Chiff-chaff; chiff-chaff; chiv-chave.” The humoursome Wagtails and that rare visitant the Waxwing, hopped along together, followed by the Swallows and the Martins, and a whole posse of Finches of various orders, particularly the Chaffinches who were joking with the Linnets.
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Then came the noisy Starlings, the Magpies and the Sparrows chattering incessantly and evidently talking scandal. The sly Jackdaws and the Ravens looking as sleek as Sunday s.e.xtons, but evidently plotting mischief, were also present, in close proximity to the Rooks and the Crows, who were well able to take care of their own caws. Afterwards came the Swifts and the Larks up to all sorts of games. A few Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs joined their feathered friends, and one Cuckoo was there, because Willie heard him, but he kept somewhere in the background as usual. Owls and Bats and Millards with Wigeons and Pigeons brought up the rear with a few Plovers, including the Lapwing. Jack Snipe came tumbling after in a hurry, with a stranger called the Whimbrel and a Puffin out of breath. There were other birds as well, but I don't think you would know them if I mentioned them. Maude and Willie did not, and they were quite authorities on ornithology, and perhaps you are not.
THE SONG OF THE BIRDS.
We are the birds of London Town, Come out to take the air, To change our coats of grey and brown, And trim our feathers rare.
For London fogs so very black Our tempers disarrange, And so we skip with piping trip, To have our yearly change.
Pee wit! Tu! whoo!
How do you do?
Tweet! tweet! chip! chip!
Chiff! chaff! chiff chay!
Weet wee! weet weet! sweet way!
Cuckoo!
We sing our songs in London Town, To make the workers gay; And seeds and crumbs they throw us down-- 'Tis all we ask as pay.
We make them think of fields all green And long-forgotten things; Of far-off hopes and dreams a-sheen And love with golden wings.
Pee wit! Tu! whoo!
How do you do?
Tweet! tweet! chip! chip!
Chiff! chaff! chiff chay!
Weet wee! weet weet! sweet way!
Cuckoo!
After this very entertaining song each bird stood on one leg, spread one wing, and joined partners for one of the prettiest dances you ever saw.
It was called the Birds' Quadrille, and was so charmingly executed that even the flowers left their beds and borders to look on--the fairies peeping meanwhile from the buds to join in the general enjoyment. The voices of the flowers were lifted in gentle cadences to the rhythm of the feathered dancers' featly twists and turns.
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