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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Here is a naturalist who sees the flower and the bud with a poet's curiosity and awe, and does not count the stamens in the aster, nor the feathers in the wood-thrush, but rests in the surprise and affection they awake." This was Emerson's own instinctive attitude to all the phenomena of nature.
The cherry-birds flitted around us, the nuthatch and flicker were heard among the bushes, the titmouse perched within a few feet, and the song of the wood-thrush again rung along the ridge.
And the note of the wood-thrush as I slowly mounted the path, struck reproachfully and rebukingly upon the ear of my conscience. How had this come about? I mused as I went up the hill. What was the matter? What had bewitched me?
There was a deep hush on the opal waters under the April morning sky, and no sound but the far-off note of a wood-thrush. "Madeline!" he cried at last. "Be merciful, and speak to me." She gathered her self-possession and turned to face him with smiles and dimples, and one swift look full in the face. "Mr.
A sparrow trilled from the swaying top of a purple ironwood, and from grass, and fence-rail, and awing, meadow larks were fluting everywhere, but the song of no wood-thrush reached his waiting ear. Over and over again his brain reviewed every incident of the day, only to end each time with Marjorie's voice, her smile with its new quality of mischief, and the touch of her hand.
One way out led to the thicket where a wood-thrush was sitting in a low tree, and the other, by the Path Difficult, up to the world above. The seat, across the court from the nest, had plainly been arranged by some kind fate on purpose for us.
It seems like pure ecstasy; and however critical one may be, he cannot help feeling deep sympathy with the joyous soul that thus expresses itself. With all the wonderful power and variety, the bewitching charm, there is not the "feeling," the heavenly melody, of the wood-thrush. As an imitator, I think he is much overrated. I cannot agree with Lanier that
The Red Mavis, or Thrush, is most musical in the early part of the season, when he first arrives, or in the month of May; the Veery is most vocal in June, and the Wood-Thrush in July; the Cat-Bird begins early and sings late, and fills out with his quaint notes the remainder of the singing season, after the others have become silent.
Robins, with their heads lifted heavenward, were singing as rapturously as if they were saints rather than rollicking gormandizers. Every bird that had a voice was lifting it up in thanksgiving, but clear, sweet, and distinct above them all came the notes of the wood-thrush, with his Beethoven-like melody. "Have you no words for a scene like this, Webb?" she asked, at last.
"He's that handy with a child, sir, you wouldn't think 'Deed you wouldn't." Then, stooping to the baby as it ate its supper, "But I'm saying, young woman, is there no sleep in your eyes to-night?" "No, but nodding away here like a wood-thrush in a tree," said Pete. He was ladling the pobs into the child's mouth, and scooping the overflow from her chin. "Sleep's a terrible enemy of this one, sir.
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