Look where the gra.s.s is gay With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers; And search, from spray to spray, The leafy laurel bowers, For well he loves the laurels and the flowers.

Find him, but do not dwell, With eyes too fond, on the fair form you see, Nor love his song too well; Send him, at once, to me, Or leave him to the air and liberty.

For only from my hand He takes the seed into his golden beak, And all unwiped shall stand The tears that wet my cheek, Till I have found the wanderer I seek.

My sight is darkened o'er, Whene'er I miss his eyes, which are my day, And when I hear no more The music of his lay, My heart in utter sadness faints away.

_From the Spanish of_ CAROLINA CORONADO DE PERRY.

_Translated by_ W. C. BRYANT.

THE BIRDS MUST KNOW.

The birds must know. Who wisely sings Will sing as they; The common air has generous wings, Songs make their way.

No messenger to run before, Devising plan; No mention of the place or hour To any man; No waiting till some sound betrays A listening ear; No different voice, no new delays, If steps draw near.

"What bird is that? Its song is good."

And eager eyes Go peering through the dusky wood, In glad surprise.

Then late at night, when by his fire The traveller sits, Watching the flame grow brighter, higher, The sweet song flits By s.n.a.t.c.hes through his weary brain To help him rest; When next he goes that road again An empty nest On leafless bough will make him sigh, "Ah me! last spring Just here I heard, in pa.s.sing by, That rare bird sing!"

But while he sighs, remembering How sweet the song, The little bird on tireless wing, Is borne along In other air; and other men With weary feet, On other roads, the simple strain Are finding sweet.

The birds must know. Who wisely sings Will sing as they; The common air has generous wings, Songs make their way.

H. H.

THE BIRD KING.

Dost thou the monarch eagle seek?

Thou'lt find him in the tempest's maw, Where thunders with tornadoes speak, And forests fly as though of straw; Or on some lightning-splintered peak, Sceptred with desolation's law, The shrubless mountain in his beak, The barren desert in his claw.

ALGER'S _Oriental Poetry_.

SHADOWS OF BIRDS.

In darkened air, alone with pain, I lay. Like links of heavy chain The minutes sounded, measuring day, And slipping lifelessly away.

Sudden across my silent room A shadow darker than its gloom Swept swift; a shadow slim and small, Which poised and darted on the wall, And vanished quickly as it came.

A shadow, yet it lit like flame; A shadow, yet I heard it sing, And heard the rustle of its wing, Till every pulse with joy was stirred; It was the shadow of a bird!

Only the shadow! Yet it made Full summer everywhere it strayed; And every bird I ever knew Back and forth in the summer flew, And breezes wafted over me The scent of every flower and tree; Till I forgot the pain and gloom And silence of my darkened room.

Now, in the glorious open air I watch the birds fly here and there; And wonder, as each swift wing cleaves The sky, if some poor soul that grieves In lonely, darkened, silent walls, Will catch the shadow as it falls!

H. H.

THE BIRD AND THE SHIP.

"The rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow.

"The clouds are pa.s.sing far and high, We little birds in them play; And everything, that can sing and fly, Goes with us, and far away.

"I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?"

"I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea, I haste from the narrow land.

"Full and swollen is every sail; I see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale, And it will not let me stand still.

"And wilt thou, little bird, go with us?

Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all."

"I need not and seek not company, Bonny boat, I can sing all alone; For the mainmast tall too heavy am I, Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.

"High over the sails, high over the mast, Who shall gainsay these joys?

When thy merry companions are still, at last, Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.

"Who neither may rest, nor listen may, G.o.d bless them every one!

I dart away, in the bright blue day, And the golden fields of the sun.

"Thus do I sing my weary song, Wherever the four winds blow; And this same song, my whole life long, Neither Poet nor Printer may know."

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

A MYTH.

Afloating, afloating Across the sleeping sea, All night I heard a singing bird Upon the topmast tree.

"Oh, came you from the isles of Greece, Or from the banks of Seine?

Or off some tree in forests free That fringe the western main?"

"I came not off the old world, Nor yet from off the new; But I am one of the birds of G.o.d Which sing the whole night through."

"Oh, sing and wake the dawning!

Oh, whistle for the wind!

The night is long, the current strong, My boat it lags behind."

"The current sweeps the old world, The current sweeps the new; The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, Ere thou hast sailed them through."

C. KINGSLEY.

THE DOG.