Part 11 (2/2)

KINFOLK

O, we are Kinfolk, she and I,-- The little mother-bird all brown, Who broods above her nest on high, And with her soft, bright eyes looks down To read the secret of my heart,-- We two from all the world apart!

She dreams there in her swaying nest; I dream here 'neath my sheltering vine.

The same love stirs her feathered breast That makes my heart-throb seem divine.

We both dream 'neath the same kind sky,-- The small brown mother-bird, and I.

KATE WHITING PATCH

A MOCKING-BIRD

An arrow, feathery, alive, He darts and sings,-- Then with a sudden skimming dive Of striped wings He finds a pine and, debonair, Makes with his mate All birds that ever rested there Articulate.

The whisper of a mult.i.tude Of happy wings Is round him, a returning brood, Each time he sings.

Though heaven be not for them or him Yet he is wise, And daily tiptoes on the rim Of paradise.

WITTER BYNNER

THE CARDINAL-BIRD

Where snow-drifts are deepest he frolics along, A flicker of crimson, a chirrup of song, My Cardinal-Bird of the frost-powdered wing, Composing new lyrics to whistle in Spring.

A plump little prelate, the park is his church; The pulpit he loves is a cliff-sheltered birch; And there, in his rubicund livery dressed, Arranging his feathers and ruffling his crest,

He preaches, with most unconventional glee, A sermon addressed to the squirrels and me, Commending the wisdom of those that display The brightest of colors when heavens are gray.

ARTHUR GUITERMAN

YELLOW WARBLERS

The first faint dawn was flus.h.i.+ng up the skies, When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes, I looked out to the oak that, winter-long,-- A winter wild with war and woe and wrong,-- Beyond my cas.e.m.e.nt had been void of song.

And lo! with golden buds the twigs were set, Live buds that warbled like a rivulet Beneath a veil of willows. Then I knew Those tiny voices, clear as drops of dew, Those flying daffodils that fleck the blue,

Those sparkling visitants from myrtle isles-- Wee pilgrims of the sun, that measured miles Innumerable over land and sea With wings of s.h.i.+ning inches. Flakes of glee, They filled that dark old oak with jubilee,

Foretelling in delicious roundelays Their dainty courts.h.i.+ps on the dipping sprays, How they should fas.h.i.+on nests, mate helping mate, Of milkweed flax and fern-down delicate, To keep sky-tinted eggs inviolate.

Listening to those blithe notes, I slipped once more From lyric dawn through dreamland's open door, And there was G.o.d, Eternal Life that sings Eternal joy, brooding all mortal things, A nest of stars, beneath untroubled wings.

KATHARINE LEE BATES

WITCHERY

<script>