The squirrel above him might chatter and chide;
And the purple-winged jay scream on every side;
The great winds might blow, and the thunder might roll,
Yet the fearless Woodpecker still cling to the bole;

But soon as a footstep that's human is heard,
A quick terror springs to the heart of the bird!
For man, the oppressor and tyrant, has made

The free harmless dwellers of nature afraid!

'Neath the fork of the branch, in the tree's hollow bole, Has the timid Woodpecker crept into his hole; For there is his home in deep privacy hid,

Like a chamber scooped into a far pyramid;
And there is his mate, as secure as can be,

And his little young Woodpeckers deep in the tree.
And not till he thinks there is no one about,
Will he come to his portal and slyly peep out;
And then, when we're up at the end of the lane,
We shall hear the old Woodpecker laughing again.

MOORE.

KNEW by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was

near,

And I said, "If there's peace to be found in

the world,

A heart that was humble might hope for it here!"

It was noon, and on flowers that languish'd around
In silence repos'd the voluptuous bee;

Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound

But the Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.