e, who is
really one of the chief performers, and who, as his bright plumage flashes
upon the sight, warbles forth a few notes so clear and mellow as to be
beard above every other sound. Adding a pleasing variety to all this
harmony, the lisping notes of the meadowlark, uttered in a shrill tone,
and with a peculiar pensive modulation, are plainly audible, with short
rests between each repetition.

There is a little brown sparrow, resembling the hairbird, save a general
tint of russet in his plumage, that may be heard distinctly among the
warbling host. He is rarely seen in cultivated grounds, but frequents the
wild pastures, and is the bird that warbles so sweetly at midsummer, when
the whortleberries are ripe, and the fields are beautifully spangled with
red lilies.

There is no confusion in the notes of his song, which consists of one
syllable rapidly repeated, but increasing in rapidity and rising to a
higher key towards the conclusion. He sometimes prolongs his strain, when
his notes are observed to rise and fall in succession. These plaintive and
expressive notes are very loud and constantly uttered, during the hour
that precedes the rising of the sun. A dozen warblers of this species,
singing in concert, and distributed in different parts of the field, form,
perhaps, the most delightful part of the woodland oratorio to which we
have listened.

At sunrise hardly a robin can be beard in the whole neighborhood, and the
character of the performance has completely changed during the last half
hour. The first part was more melodious and tranquilizing, the last is
more brilliant and animating. The grass finches, the vireos, the wrens,
and the linnets have joined their voices to the chorus, and the bobolinks
are loudest in their song. But the notes of the birds in general are not
so incessant as before sunrise. One by one they discontinue their lays,
until at high noon the bobolink and the warbling flycatcher are almost the
only vocalists to be heard in the fields.

XII. SHORT SELECTIONS IN POETRY. (94)

1. THE CLOUD.

A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow;
Long had I watched the glory moving on,
O'er the still radiance of the lake below:
Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow,
E'en in its very motion there was rest,
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow,
Wafted the traveler to the beauteous west.
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,