My bird has flown away,
Far out of sight has flown, I know not where.
Look in your lawn, I pray,
Ye maidens kind and fair,
And see if my beloved bird be there.
Find him, but do not dwell
With eyes too fond on the fair form you see,
Nor love his song too well;
Send him at once to me,
Or leave him to the air and liberty.
From the Spanish.
Some day a budding ornithologist, more eager than wise, with note-book and pencil, will possibly record a "new species" among the foothill trees—a species that resembles both yellow warbler and goldfinch. And the young man will look very knowing, all alone out in the woods; and he will send his specimen to the National Museum for identification. And the museum people will shake their wiser heads and inform the "ornithologist" that, in their opinion, there is more of the ordinary tame canary "let loose" in the individual than goldfinch or warbler.
Let it pass.
A bird for thee in silken bonds I hold,
Whose yellow plumage shines like polished gold;
From distant isles the lovely stranger came,
And bears the far-away Canary's name.
Lyttleton.