Identifier: throughyearwithb00will (find matches)
Title: Through the year with birds and poets (poems);
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors: Williams, Sarah, comp
Subjects: American poetry Birds
Publisher: Boston, Lee and Shepard
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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Text Appearing Before Image:
istles, In the autumns yellow blight — No, not: White — Bob White !Bob White! Henry T. Stanton. By permission of the Century Company. SUMMER And the lark went palpitating Up through the glorious skies,His song spilled down from the blue profound As a song from Paradise. The catbird piped in the hazel,And the harsh kingfisher screamed, And the crane, in amber and oozy swirls,Dozed in the reeds and dreamed. From out far depths of the forest, Ineffably sad and lorn,Like the yearning cry of a long-lost love, The moan of the dove was borne. And through lush glooms of the thicket The flash of the redbirds wingsOn branches of star-white blooms that shook And thrilled with its twitterings. Through mossy and viny vistas Soaked ever with deepest shade,Dimly the dull ozvlstared and stared From his bosky ambuscade. And up through the rifled tree-tops That signalled the wayward breezeI saw the hulk of the hawk becalmed Far out on the azure seas. A Vision of Summer. —James Whitcomb Riley. 142
Text Appearing After Image:
JUNE In June, on yonder wooded hill, go sitBeneath the leafy trees, where, overhead,The brown thrush, playful, taunts the farmers toil;The catbird sings his ever varied lay ;While from the elm, amid the neighboring mead,The oriole his clear, bold whistle sounds ;And, from the mead itself, the bobolink foursHis liquid prelude and his saucy song.In all this flood of melody one soundWill ever fill thine ear, — the name of God. Hymn of the Seasons. —Thomas Hill. Listen ! the choir is singing; all the birds,In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,Are singing ! Listen, ere the sound be fled,And learn there may be worship without words. My Cathedral. —HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. June overhead !All the birds know it, for swift they have spedNorthward, and now they are singing like mad;June is full-tide for them, June makes them glad.Hark, the bright choruses greeti?ig the day — Sorrow away ! June.—Richard Burton. 144 WITH BIRDS AND POETS 145 BIRDS IN JUNE The little bird sits at his door in t

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