THE BIRDS.
TRIBES of the air! Whose favored race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky;
In form, in plumage, and in song,
What gifts of nature mark your throng,
With bright variety!
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak! How dear
Your wood-note to the wanderer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain nor hunter may not climb,
The mountain eagle seeks;
Alone reigns he a monarch there,
Scarce will the wild chamois' footstep dare
Ascend his Alpine peaks.
Others there are, that make their home
Where the white billows roar and foam
Around the o'erhanging rock;
Fearless they skim the angry wave,
Or, sheltered in their sea-beat cave,
The tempest's fury mock.
Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The ostrich haunts the desert sands,
Parch'd by the blaze of day;
The swan, where northern rivers glide
Through the tall reeds that fringe their tide,
Floats graceful on her way.
The condor, where the Andes tower,
Spreads his broad wing of pride and power,
And many a storm defies;
Bright is the orient realms of morn,
All beauty's richest hues adorn
The bird of Paradise.
Some, amidst India's groves of palm,
And spicy forests breathing balm,
Weave soft their pendent nest;
Some, deep in western wilds, display
Their fairy form and plumage gay,
In rainbow colors crest.
Others no varied song may pour
May boast no eagle-plume to soar,
No tints of light may wear;
Yet, know, our heavenly Father guides
The least of these, and well provides
For each, with tenderest-care.
Shall he not, then, thy guardian be?
Will not his aid extend to thee?
Oh! Safely may'st thou rest!
Trust in his love, and e'en should pain,
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
Know what he wills is best!
Hemans.