Birds of Song and Story (Classic Reprint) - Softcover

Excerpt from Birds of Song and Story

Some barbarous peoples possess a rude taste for the beautiful plumage of birds, decorating their bodies in feathers of softest and brightest tints. But we have record of few, if any, savage tribes the world over which delight in bird melody. True, the savage may seek his food by sound, or even song, but to feast the ear on music for music's sake ah, this is reserved for culture.

An ear cultivated to melody is one of the soul's luxuries. Attuned to sweet and varied sound, it may become the guide to bird secrets never imparted to the eye.

Sitting in the close shrubbery of a home garden, or crouch ing moveless in a forest, one may catch Whispers of bird language never imparted to human ears when the listener is moving about or talking with a comrade.

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Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from Birds of Song and Story

The Birds

They are swaying in the marshes,
They are swinging in the glen,
Where the cat-tails air their brushes
In the zephyrs of the fen;
In the swamp's deserted tangle,
Where the reed-grass whets its scythes;
In the dismal, creepy quagmire,
Where the snake-gourd twists and writhes.

They are singing in arroyos,
Where the cactus mails its breast,
Where the Spanish bayonet glistens
On the steep bank's rocky crest;
In the canon, where the cascade
Sets its pearls in maiden-hair,
Where the hay and holly beckon
Valley sun and mountain air.

They are nesting in the elbow
Of the scrub-oak's knotty arm,
In the gray mesh of the sage-brush,
In the wheat-fields of the farm;
In the banks along the sea beach,
In the vine above my door,
In the outstretched, clumsy fingers
Of the mottled sycamore.

While the church-bell rings its discourse
They are sitting on the spires;
Song and anthem, psalm and carol
Quaver as from mystic lyres.
Everywhere they flirt and flutter,
Mate and nest in shrub and tree.
Charmed, I wander yon and hither,
While their beauties ravish me,

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.