"In the deep, solemn wood, at dawn I hear
A voice serene and pure, now far, now near,
Singing sweetly, singing slowly.
Holy; oh, holy, holy;
Again at evening hush, now near, now far—
Oh, tell me, art thou voice of bird or star?
Sounding sweetly, sounding slowly.
Holy; oh, holy, holy."
[CHAPTER V]
THE GROSBEAKS
Have you ever heard of the sing-away bird,
That sings where the run-away river
Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills
That stand in the sunshine and shiver?
Oh, sing, sing away, sing away!
How the pines and the birches are stirred
By the trill of the sing-away bird!
And beneath the glad sun, every glad-hearted one
Sets the world to the tune of its gladness;
The swift rivers sing it, the wild breezes wing it.
Till earth loses thought of her sadness.
Oh, sing, sing away, sing away!
Oh, sing, happy soul, to joy's giver—
Sing on, by Time's run-away river!
Lucy Larcom.
You would recognize it anywhere by its beak. And you may call this feature of the face a beak, or a nose, or a hand, or a pair of lips. In either case it is thick, heavy, prominent, the common characteristic of the grosbeaks. Individuals may differ in plumage, but always there is the thick, conical bill.
"Oh, oh, what a big nose you've got!" and "Oh, oh, what a red nose it is!" we exclaimed, when we first met the cardinal face to face in a thicket. In a moment we had forgotten the shape and tint of the beak in the song that poured out of it. It was like forgetting the look of the big rocks between which gushes the waterfall in a mountain gorge.