point, which bristled not only with pins but with needles which had been temporarily left in it and which were nearly as sharp at the eye-ends as at the points. Upon these Bob's poor claws came down with fury; he felt the wounds and saw the blood: both he attributed to the strokes of his enemy, and this aroused him to new rage. In order to give additional momentum to his onset he would retire toward the other side of the room and thence fly at the foe. Again and again he charged; and as many times slid down the smooth surface of the mirror and wounded himself upon the perilous pincushion. As I entered, being first up from table, he was in the act of fluttering down against the glass. The counterpane on the bed, the white dimity cover of the bureau, the pincushion, all bore the bloody resemblances of his feet in various places, and showed how many times he had sought distant points in order to give himself a running start. His heart was beating violently, and his feathers were ludicrously tousled. And all against the mere shadow of himself! Never was there such a temptation for the head of a family to assemble his people and draw a prodigious moral. But better thoughts came; for, after all, was it not probable that the poor bird was defending-or at any rate believed he was defending-the rights and properties of his absent masters against a foe of unknown power? All the circumstances go to show that he made the attack with a faithful valor as reverent as that which steadied the lance of Don Quixote against the windmills. In after days, when his cage has been placed among the boughs of the trees, he has not shown any warlike feelings against the robins and sparrows, but only a friendly interest. SIDNEY LANIER. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. Merrily swinging on brier and weed, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Spink, spank, spink; Snug and safe in that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed, Wearing a bright black wedding coat; Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Chee, chee, chee. Modest and shy as a nun is she; One weak chirp is her only note. Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Never was I afraid of man; Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can! Six white eggs on a bed of hay, There as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nice good wife that never goes out, Chee, chee, chee. Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Spink, spank, spink; This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee. Summer wanes; the children are grown; Spink, spank, spink; When you can pipe that merry old strain, Robert of Lincoln, come back again. Chee, chee, chee. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. JUNE. Now is the high-tide of the year, And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; No matter how barren the past may have been, The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by; For other couriers we should not lack; We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — And hark! how clear bold chanticleer, Warmed with the new life of the year, Tells all in his lusty crowing! [From the "Vision of Sir Launfal."] JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. |