THE WOOD-PIGEON'S HOME. Come with me, if but in fancy, To the wood, the green soft shade: "Tis a haven, pure and lovely, For the good of mankind made. Listen! you can hear the cooing, Of the pigeons, as they nestle In the branches all around. In the city and the open, Man has built or tilled the land; But the home of the wood-pigeon Bears the touch of God's own hand. ANON. THE SHAG. "What is that great bird, sister, tell me, Perched high on the top of the crag? "Tis the cormorant, dear little brother; The fishermen call it the shag." "But what does it there, sister, tell me, "Little brother, hold fast to my hand.” "Oh, what was that, sister? The thunder? Did the shag bring the storm and the cloud, The wind and the rain and the lightning?” "Little brother, the thunder roars loud. "Run fast, for the rain sweeps the ocean; 22 O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly, And safely they watch from the window But the shag kept his place on the headland, And, when the brief storm had gone by, He shook his loose plumes, and they saw him Rise splendid and strong in the sky. Clinging fast to the gown of his sister, "He is gone with the wind and lightning! THE LOST BIRD. My bird has flown away, Far out of sight has flown, I know not where. Look in your lawn, I pray, Ye maidens kind and fair, And see if my beloved bird be there. His eyes are full of light; The eagle of the rock has such an eye; Round his smooth temples lie, And sweet his voice and tender as a sigh. Look where the grass is gay With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers; 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, Send him, at once, to me, Or leave him to the air and liberty. For only from my hand The tears that wet my cheek, Till I have found the wanderer I seek. My sight is darkened o'er, eyes, 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. 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 No different voice, no new delays, If steps draw near. "What bird is that? And eager eyes Its song is good." Go peering through the dusky wood, In glad surprise. Then late at night, when by his fire Watching the flame grow brighter, higher, The sweet song By snatches 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 passing by, That rare bird sing!' But while he sighs, remembering 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? The shrubless mountain in his beak, ALGER'S Oriental Poetry. SHADOWS OF BIRDS. In darkened air, alone with pain, |