THE MOCKING BIRD.
EARLY on a pleasant day
In the poet's month of May,
Field and forest looked so fair,
So refreshing was the air,
That, in spite of morning dew,
Forth I walked where tangling grew
Many a thorn and breezy bush;
When the redbreast and the thrush
Gaily raised their early lay,
Thankful for returning day.
Every thicket, bush, and tree
Swelled the grateful harmony;
As it mildly swept along,
Echo seemed to catch the song:
But the plain was wide and clear
Echo never whispered near.
From a neighboring mocking-bird
Came the answering notes I heard.
Soft and low the song began:
I scarcely caught it as it ran
Through the melancholy trill
Of the plaintive whippoorwill,
Through the ringdove's gentle wail —
Chattering jay and whistling quail,
Sparrow's twitter, catbird's cry,
Redbird's whistle, robin's sigh;
Blackbird, bluebird, swallow, lark,
Each his native note might mark.
Oft he tried the lesson o'er,
Each time louder than before.
Burst at length the finished song;
Loud and clear it poured along;
All the choir in silence heard.
Hushed before this wondrous bird,
All transported and amazed,
Scarcely breathing, long I gazed.
Now it reached the loudest swell;
Lower, lower, now it fell,
Lower, lower, lower still;
Scarce it sounded o'er the rill.
Now the warbler ceased to sing;
Then he spread his russet wing,
And I saw him take his flight
Other regions to delight.
J. R. Drake.