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The redbreast oft, at evening hours,

The Robin-red-breast till of late had rest, Shall kindly lend his little aid,

And children sacred held a Martin's nest. With hoary moss, and gathered flowers,

g. POPE-Second Book of Horace. To deck the ground where thou art laid.

Satire II. Line 37. Q. WILLIAM COLLINS-- Odes. Dirge in


They'll come again to the apple tree

Robin and all the restThere scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, When the orchard branches are fair to see By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; In the snow of the blossoms dressed, The Redbreast loves to build and warble And the prettiest thing in the world will be there,

The building of the nest. And light footsteps lightly print the ground.

MARGARET E. SANGSTERThe Building b. GRAY-Elegy. Last St. (Early

of the Nest. Edition.)

The redbreast, sacred to the honsehold gods, Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth

Wisely regardful of th' embroiling sky, forlorn,

In joyless tields and thorny thickets, leaves His God-like forehead by the mock crown

His shivering mates and pays to trusted

man A little bird took from that crown one thorn.

His annual visit. To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing

i. THOMSONThe Seasons. Winter. head,

Line 246. That bird did what she could; His blood 'tis Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren, said,

Since o'er shady groves they hover, Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. And with leaves and flowers do cover Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; The friendless bodies of unburied men. Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest; ]. JOHN WEBSTER- The White Devil; or, All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast.

Vittoria Corombona. A Dirge. 6. HOSEYNS-ABRAHALL- The Redbreast. A Briton Legend. In English

Each morning, when my waking eyes ürst

see, Lyrics.

Through the wreathed lattice, golden day The sobered robin, hunger-silent now,

appear, seeks cedar-berries blue, his autumn cheer.

There sits a robin on the old elm-tree, d. LOWELL-An Indian Summer Reverie.

And with such stirring music tills my ear,

I might forget that life had pain or fear, Poor robin, driven in by rain-storms wild And feel again as I was wont to do, To lie submissive under household hands When hope was young, and life itself were With beating heart that no love understands, Du scared eye, like a child

I. ANNA MARIA WELLS--The Old Elm who only knows that he is all alone And summer's gone.

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best, e D. M. MULOCK-Summer Gone. St. 2.

The pious bird with the scarlet breast, On fair Brittannia's isle, bright bird,

Our little English robin; A legend strange is told of thee,

The bird that comes about our doors Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed

When Autumn winds are sobbing? While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary,

I WORDSWORTH-The Redbreast Chasing Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind;

the Butterfly And humbled to the very dust

Now when the primrose makes a splendid By the vile cross, while viler man

show, Jocked with a crown of thorns the Just. And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, Fierced by our sorrows, and weighed down And humbler growths as moved with one By our transgressions,-faint, and weak,

desire crushed by an angry Judge's frown,

Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, And agonies no word can speak,

Poor Robin is yet floweriess; but how gay was then, dear bird, the legend says With his red stalks upon this sunny day!

That thou, from out His crown, didst tear 1 m. WORDSWORTH -Poor Rovin. he thorns, to lighten the distress,

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And ease the pain that he must bear, bile pendant from thy tiny beak

And at iny casement sing, The gory points thy bosom pressed,

Though it should prove a farewell lay a crimsoned with thy Saviour's blood

And this our parting spring. s: The sober brownness of thy breast! ince which proud hour for thee and thine, Then, little Bird, this boon confer, As an especial sign of grace

Come, and my requiem sing, cod pours like sacramental wine

Nor fail to be the harbinger
Ked signs of favor o'er thy race!

Of everlasting Spring.
DELLE W. NORTON- To the Robin

n. WORDSWORTH – To a Redbreast.
Redbreast. 1

In Sickness.


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The sparrows chirped as if they still were Those Rooks, dear, from morning till night

proud They seem to do nothing but quarrel and

Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned

be. fight, And wrangle and jangle, and plunder,

i LONGFELLOW-The Birds of

Killingworth. St. 2. a. D. M. Mulock-- Thirty Years. The Blackbird and the Rooks.

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, The building rook'ill caw from the windy That it had its head bit off by its young. tall elm-tree.

J. King Lear. Act I. Sc. 4. b. TENNYSON--The May Queen. Nero

Year's Eve. Behold, within the leafy shade, The rook who high amid the boughs

Those bright blue eggs together laid! In early Spring, his airy city builds,

On me the chance-discovered sight And ceaseless caws amusive.

Gleamed like a vision of delight. c. THOMSON - The Seasons. Spring.

k. WORDSWORTH-The Sparrow's Nest.

Line 765.

SWALLOW. Hush ! a young sea-bird floats, and that The little comer's coming, the comer o'er quick cry

the sea, Shrieks to the levelled weapon's echoing The comer of tho summer, all the sunny sound:

days to be. Grasp its lank wing, and on, with reckless 1. THOMAS AIRDThe Swallow.

bound ! Yet, creature of the surf, a sheltering breast Down comes rain drop, bubble follows; To-night shall haunt in vain thy far-off On the house top one by one

Flock the synagogue of swallows, A call unanswered search the rocky ground. Met to vote that autumn's gone. d. HAWKER--Records of the Western Shore. m. THEOPHILE GAUTIER-Life, a Bubble. Pater Vester Pascit Illa.

A Bird's-Eye View Thereof. Between two seas the sea-bird's wing makes

Trans. F. Á. halt, Wind-weary; while with lifting head he

When Jesus hung upon the cross

The birds, 'tis said, bewailed the loss waits For breath to reinspire him from the gates

Of Him who first to mortals taught, That open still toward sunrise on the vault

Guiding with love the life of all, High-domed of morning.

And heeding e'en the sparrows' iall. e. SWINBURNE-Songs of the Spring-Tides. But, as old Swedish legends say,

Of all the birds upon that day,

The swallow felt the deepest grief,
Fixed in a white-thorn bush, its summer

And longed to give her Lord relief, guest,

And chirped when any near would come, So low, e'en grass o'er-topped its tallest twig,

Hugsuaia swala swal honom!' A sedge-bird built its little benty nest,

Meaning, as they who tell it deem, Close by the meadow pool and wooden brig. Ob, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him! f. CLARE--The Rural Muse. Poems.

n. LELAND--The Swallow.
The Sedge-Bird's Nest.

I said to the little Swallow:

Who'll follow?

Out of thy nest in the eaves Blithe wanderer of the wintry air,

Under the ivy leaves. Now here, now there, now everywhere,

0. D. M. MULOCK-- A Rhyme about Birds. Quick drifting to and fro, A cheerful life devoid of care,

It's surely summer, for there's a swallow: A shadow on the snow.

Come one swallow, his mate will follow, g. GEORGE W. BUNGAYThe English The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.


CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI --A Bird Song. In thy own serinon, thou

St. 2. That the sparrow falls dost allow, It shall not cause me any alarm,

There goes the swallow, For neither so comes the bird to harm,

Could we but follow! Seeing our Father, thou hast said,

Hasty swallow stay, Is by the sparrow's dying bed;

Point us out the way; Therefore it is a blessed place,

Look back swallow, turn back swallow, stop And the sparrow in high grace.

swallow. ho GEORGE MacDonald-- Paul Faber.

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — Songs in a Consider the Ravens. Ch. XXI. |

Cornfield. St. 7.

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THROSTLE. The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill. l. Midsummer Night's Dream. Act II.

Sc. 1. And hark! low blithe the throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let nature be your teacher.

. WORDSWORTH - The Tables Turner.

THRUSH. Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush

That overhung in molehill large and round, I heard from morn to morn a inerry thrush Sing hymns of rapture, while I drank the

sound With joy-and oft an unintruding guest,

I watch'd her secret toils from day to day; How true she warp'd the moss to iorm her

nest, And modell'd it within with wood and

clay. n. CLARE- The Thrush's Nest. I said to the brown, brown Thrush:

“Hush-hush! Through the wood's full strains I hear Thy monotone deep and clear,

Like a sound amid sounds most fine." 0. D. M. MULOCK - A Rhyme About Birds.

There the thrushes Sing till latest sunlight flushes In the west.

p. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI ---Sound Sleep.

St. 2.

SWAN. ini over the pond are sailing

Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing

Pierce through me as onward they go.
They sail along, and a ringing

Sweet melody rises on high,
And when the swans begin singing,

They presently must die.
C. HEINE– Early Poems. Evening

Songs. No. 2. The swan in the pool is singing,

And up and down doth he steer,
And, singing gently ever,
Dips under the water clear.
d. HEINE-- Book of Songs. Lyrical

Interlude. No. 64.
The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.
e. HEINE-Early Poems. Evening Songs.

No. 3. The swan with arched neck Between her white wings mantling proudly,

rows Her state with oary feet. Í MILTON--Paradise Lost. Bk. VII.

Line 438. The white swan, as he lies on the wet grass,

when the Fates summon him, sing at the fords of

Mieander. g. Riley's Ovid. Ep. VII. All the water in the ocean, Can Dever turn a swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood. ho. Titus Andronicus. Act IV. Sc. 2.

I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching

waves. i. Henry VI. Pt. III. Act. I. Sc. 4. The swan's down feather, That stands upon the swell at full of tide, And neither way inclines. di Antony and Cleopatra. Act III.

Sc. 2. The stately-sailing swan Gives out his snowy piumage to the gale; And, arching proud bis neck, with oary feet Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier

isle, Protective of his young. k. THOMSON - The Seasons. Spring.

Line 775.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.

9. TENNYSON— In Memoriam. Pt. XC. At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight

appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung

for three years. r. WORDSWORTH-Reverie of Poor Susan.

All day in silence thou dost hide,
At eve thy call is drifted wide,
Scarce melody, a tender trill,
And sad, oh, strange, wild whip-poor-will.

Where sleep and misty shadows fioat
In forests depths is heard thy note.
Like a lost spirit, enrthbound still,
Art thou, mysterious whip-poor-will.
t. JARIE LE BARON--The Whip-Poor-

Will. But the whip-poor-will wails on the moor,

And day las deserted the west: The moon glimmers down thro' the vines at

my door And the robin has flown to her nest.

U. JAMES G. CLARKE - The Wood-Robin.

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The poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

C. Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 2.

Among the dwellings framed by birds

In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's

In snugness may compare.
d. WORDSWORTH-Å Wren's Nest,

The happy white-throat on the swaying

locked by the impulse of the gadding wind
That ushers in the showers of April, now
Carols right joyously, and now reclined,
Crouching, she clings close to her moving

seat, To keep her hold. C. CLARE - The Rural Muse. Poems.

The Happy Bird.

I took the wren's nest;-
Heaven forgive me!
Its merry architects so small
Had scarcely finished their wee hall,
That, empty still, and neat and fair,
Hung idly in the summer air.

b. D. M. MULOCK--The Wren's Nest.


Yellow-bird, where did you learn that song,
Perched on the trellis where grape-vines

In and out fluttering, all day long,
With your golden breast bedropping with

e. CELIA THAXTER-- Yellow-Bird.


Believing hear, what you deserve to hear:

Your birthday, as my own, to me is dear. My birthday !--"How many years ago ? Blest and distinguish'd days! which we Twenty or thirty ?" Don't ask ine!

should prize “Forty or fifty ?"--How can I tell?

The first, the kindest, bounty of the skies, I do not remember my birth, you see!

But yours gives most; for mine did only lend f. JULIA C. R. DORR-Vy Birthday. Me to the world, yours gave to me a friend.

I. MARTIAL-IX. 53. A birthday :--and now a day that rose

Every anniversary of a birthday is the disWith much of hope, with meaning rife-

pelling of a dream. A thoughtful day from dawn to close:

m. ZSCHOKKE. The middle day of human life. g. JEAN INGELOW -- A Birthday Walk.

BLESSINGS. I am old, so old, I can write a letter;

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. My birthday lessons are done;

n. ARMSTRONG--Art of Preserving Health. The lambs play always, they know no better;

Bk, IV. Line 200. They are only one times one. h. JEAN INCELOW--Songs of Seven.

Blessings star forth forever; but a curse
Seven Times One.

Is like a cloud --it passes.

0. BAILEY-- Festus. Sc. Hades. Show me your nest with the young ones in it;

Blest I will not steal them away;

Is he whose heart is the home of the great I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet-

dead, I am seven times one to-day.

And their great thoughts. i. JEAN INGELOW -- Songs of Seven.

p. BAILEY- Festus. Sc. A Village Feast. Seven Times One.

God bless you! I have nothing to tell, sir,

q. CANNING-- The Friend of Humanity As this auspicious day began the race

and the knife-Grinder. Of ev'ry virtue join' with ev'ry grace; May you, who own them, welcome its return, For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, Till excellence, like yours, again is born. And though a late, a sure reward succeeds. The vears we wish, will half your charms r. CONGREVE--The Mourning Bride. impair;

Act V. Sc. 7. The years we wish, the better half will spare,

What is remote and difficult of success we The victims of your eyes will bleed no more, But all the beauties of your mind adore.

are apt to overrate; what is really best for us j. JEFFERY. Jiseeliunies. To a Lady

lies always within our reach, though often on her Birthday.


S. LONGFELLOW -- Kavanagh. Ch. XXX. This is my birthday, and a happier one | A man's best things are nearest him, was never mine.

Lie close about his feet. k. LONGFELLOW - The Divine Trageily. t. Rich. DOXCKTON MILNESThe Men of The Second Passover. Pt. II,


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The blest to-day is as completely so,

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, As who began a thousand years ago.

But to be young was very Heaven ! a. Pope - Essay on Man. Ep. I. Line 75. m. WORDSWORTH --The Prelude. Bk. XI. God bless the King! God bless the faith's

BLUSHES. defender! God bless --No harm in blessing the Pre- Blushed like the waves of hell. tender,

n. BYRON - The Devil's Drive. St. 5. Who that Pretender is, and who that

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
God bless us all !-- Is quite another thing.

0. Byron --Stanzas to ller who can Best b. Scott-- Redgauntlet. Ch. VII.

Understand Them. St. 12. Jove bless thee, master parson.

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush

alone which fades so fast, c. Tecelfth Night. Act IV. Sc. 2.

But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere The benediction of these covering heavens

youth itself be past. Fall on their heads like dew.

p. BYRON--Stanzas for Music. d. Cymbeline. Act V. Sc. 5.

A blush is no language: only a dubious Like birds, whose beauties languish half con

flag-signal which may mean either of two cealed,

contradictories. Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy | 9. GEORGE ELIOT-- Daniel Deronda. plumes

Bk. V. Ch. XXXV. Espanded, shine with azure, green and gold; Hɔw blessings brighten as they take their

Such a blush

In the midst of brown was born, tight. e. YOUNG-Night Thoughts. Night II.

Like red poppies grown with corn.

r. HooD--Ruth.
Line 599.

Mantling on the maiden's cheek

Young roses kindled into thought.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,

S. MOORE-Evenings in Greece. Irrevocably dark! total eclipse,

Evening II. Song. Without one hope of day.

And bid the cheek be ready with a blush f. MULTON--Samson Agonistes. Line 80.

Modest as mening when she coldly eyes He that is stricken blind, cannot forget

The youthful Phebus. The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. t. Troilus and Cressida. Act I. Sc. 3. g. Romeo and Juliet. Act I. Sc. 1.

Come, quench your blushez; and present And when a damp

yourself Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand That which you are, mistress o'the feast. The thing became a trumpet, whence he L u. A Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 3.

blew Soul-animating strains-alas, too few !

I have mark'd h. WORDSWORTH--Scorn not the Sonnet;

A thonsand blushing apparitions start
Critic, you have Frowned. Into her face; a thousand innocent shames,

In angel whiteness bear away those blushes.
v. Much Ado About Nothing. Act. IV.

Sc. 1. Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centres in the mind.

I have no one to blush with me, i. GOLDSMITH-The Traveller.

To cross their arms and hang their heads with Line 423.


2. The Rape of Lucrece. Line 792. The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.

I will go wash; di GRAY-Ode on the Pleasure arising And when my face is fair, you shall perfrom Vicissitude. Line 45.


Whether I blush or no. But such a sacred and home-felt delight,

2. Coriolanus. Act I, Sc. 9. Such sober certainty of waking bliss, I never heard till now.

Prolixious blushes that banish what they k. MILTON- Comus. Line 262.

sue for.

y. Measure for Jesure. Act II. Sc. 4. I know I am --that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss.

Two red fires in both their faces blazed; I know the fortune to be born,

She thought he blush'd, * Even to the meanest wretch they scorn. And blushing with him, wistly on him I. BAYARD TAYLOR-Prince Denkalion.

gazed. Act IV. | 2. The Rape of Lucrece. Line 1354.

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