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Fields and forests rejoice In their silver-toned throng; I hear but the voice Of the bird in thy song! In April's glad shower Flash petals and leaves, Less bright than the flower Round thy heart that weaves! Stars waken, stars slumber, Stars wink in the sky, Bright numberless number; But none like thine eye! For bird-song and flower And star from above Combine in thy bower; Their union is love!
The ground burst into bloom with magical rapidity, and the young forests into bird-song: life in every form warming and sweetening and growing richer as the years passed away over the mighty Sierra so lately suggestive of death and consummate desolation only.
How much of consolation does the worn and weary renter find in the beauty of cloud and tree or in the splendor of the sunset? Grace of flower does not feed or clothe the body, and when the toiler is both badly clothed and badly fed, bird-song and leaf-shine cannot bring content." Like Millet, I asked, "Why should all of a man's waking hours be spent in an effort to feed and clothe his family?
This time there was no fire on the hearth; through the open window floated bits of bird-song and the fragrance of the lilacs for there were lilac bushes all about Orchard Farm, close to the house, by the gate posts, and in a long hedge that ran down one side of the garden to the orchard itself.
"It is different from any other bird-song," said Olive, "and every spring when it comes it seems as lovely as the first time I heard it." "Is that Veery only visiting here, or will he build a nest?" asked Nat. "He will build; and though he is so shy that we do not see him as often as the Wood Thrush, his song makes him one of the best-known of the family.
Besides, Gombert, of Bruges, the director of the imperial orchestra, who had arrived in Ratisbon that very day, was the composer of the charming bird-song, and she knew from her singing master that, though her voice was best adapted to solemn hymns, nothing in the whole range of secular music suited it better than this "Car la saison est bonne."
He heard whole flocks of birds in the sky outside. He distinguished quite clearly one bird-song which he had never heard before. His newspaper rustled with astonishing loudness when he turned the pages, his cigar tasted to an extreme which he had never before noticed. The leaves of the plants and the tree-boughs outside cut the air crisply.
"You stay right where you are!" ordered the Colonel, quite in the old way. "Hey?" "That's a bird-song." "Thought so." "Mr. Wolf smelt the cookin'; want's the rest of the pack to know there's something queer up here on the hill." Then, as the Boy moved to one side in the dark: "What you lookin' for?" "My gun." "Mine's here." Oh yes!
In at the open door, whose frame is arabesqued with hanging sprays of sweetbrier, with the pendent nest, with fluttering moth-wings sunshine-dusted, with crowds of bursting buds, pours the mellow sun in one great stream, pours from the peach-orchards the fragrant breeze laden with bird-song.
If she was permitted to choose herself, he would also hear the bird-song, with the "Car la saison est bonne," which had extorted such enthusiastic applause from the Netherland maestro. But no! She must choose something grander, more solemn, for she wished to make a deeper, stronger, more lasting impression upon the man who was now to listen to her voice.
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