|American Red Cross-bill|
Loxia curvirostra minor
We are two dusky owls,
and we live in a tree;
Look at her, -- look at me!
Look at her, -- she's my mate,
and the mother of three
Pretty owlets, and we
Have a warm cozy nest,
just as snug as can be.
We are both very wise;
for our heads, as you see,
(Look at her -- look at me!)
Are as large as the heads
of four birds out to be;
And our horns, you'll agree,
Make us look wiser still,
sitting here on the tree.
And we care not how gloomy
the night-time may be;
We can see, -- we can see
Through the forest to roam,
it suits her, it suits me;
And we're free, -- we are free
To bring back what we find,
to our nest in the tree.
The apple tree becomes a palace
When the Queen-bird builds her throne,
And a doughty soldier the King-bird,
As he stoutly guards his own.
|-- Gene Stratton Porter|
She is here, she is here, the Swallow!
Fair seasons bringing, fair years to follow!
|-- Greek Swallow Songs|
Winged lute that we call a bluebird,
You blend in a silver strain
The sound of the laughing water,
The patter of Spring's sweet rain,
The voice of the winds, the sunshine
And fragrance of blossoming things;
You are an April poem
That god has dowered with wings.
There twilight paused in rosy dreaming,
And o'er the riot of the rills,
When starlight on the world was streaming,
Rose the love-song of the whip-poor-wills.
Where deep and misty shadows float,
In forest depths is heard thy note;
Like a lost spirit, earth-bound still,
Art though, mysterious Whip-poor-will.