BIRD CALLS.

The lark he trills his song on high,

A tiny speck on a wide blue sky;

"Tira-lir, it's sweet up here,

It's sweet up here, my dear, my dear."

The turtle-dove's in love and so

Is anxious all his world should know

And follow his example too:—

"Look at us two. Oh do, oh do."

Woodpeckers make their thirsty cry

Of "Pluie, pluie, pluie," to a sunlit sky;

But sure enough they have their way

For rain, rain, rain will fall next day.

The blackbird also craves a boon,

Says "Bring a cherry, bring a cherry, soon, soon, soon;"

And there in answer to his call

The cherry blooms on the garden wall.

The thrush of all the birds that sing

Of nests and little wives in Spring

Alone confides the secret way:—

"What does she line it with? Why, clay."

The willow wren she sings a song

Just like her mate, though not so long,

But both sing in all winds and weathers,

"Sing to me; bring to me little brown feathers."