The Masquerading Chickadee[1]
I came to the woods in the dead of the year,
I saw the wing’d sprite thro’ the green-brier peeping:
“ Darling of Winter, you’ve nothing to fear,
Though the brandies are bare and the cold earth is sleeping!”
With a dee, dee, dee! the sprite seemed to say,
“ I’m friends with the Maytime as well as December,
And I’ll meet you here on a fair-weather day:
Here, in the green-brier thicket.—remember!”
I came to the woods in the spring of the year.
And I followed a voice that was most entreating:
Phebe! Phebe! (and yet more near),
Phebe! Phebe! it kept repeating!
I gave up the search, when, not far away,
I saw the wing’d sprite thro’ the green-brier peeping,
With a Phebe! Phebe! that seemed to say,
“ I told you so! and my promise I’m keeping.”
“ You’ll know me again, when you meet me here.
Whether you come in December or Maytime:
I′ve a dee, dee, dee! for the Winter’s ear,
And a Phebe! Phebe! for Spring and Playtime!”
- ↑ “ March 1, 1896.—I hear several times the fine drawn Phe-be note of the Chickadee which I heard only once during the winter.”—“ Early Spring in Massachusetts ” Thoreau.
Matins
BY ROSA MEYERS MUMMA
As sable night fades into soft rose tint,
Through leafy aisles slow filters daylight’s glint;
From green tree arch is faintly heard the call
Which summons quickly feathered choir all
To Nature’s vast cathedral, where in song
Unite the worshippers, a feathered throng.
What harmonies pour forth from each bird throat!
A morning prayer ascends with each clear note.
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