She stood in tears amid the alien corn."
The Nightingale's song, as a bird song, I thought disappointing. I remember having the same feeling with regard to the Thrush and Blackbird. The charm of their songs is largely in the associations they evoke. Our city children are now growing up in familiarity with these two birds, which are becoming as common in our gardens as in England. And wherever they go they carry so much that is fine in literature with them. But there has not yet been time for our native birds to endear themselves to us. And so we hear only their song. Wise Shakespeare says—
"How many things by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection."
* * * * * *
"The Nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the Wren."
He knows that to the song of the bird must be its appropriate setting, and that when Nature has done her part there is still much to be supplied by ourselves.
The outlook is, however, a hopeful one. Nature-study is bringing our boys and girls into kindlier relationships with our birds; suitable popular names will be forthcoming for them; our poets will sing of them; our nursery rhymes and our children's tales will tell of them; and the time will come when even the birds now trying so hard to sing their way into our hearts, while cursed with the names of "Rufous-breasted Thickhead" and "Striated Field Wren or Stink Bird," will mean to an Australian what "the Throstle with his note so true" and "the Wren with little quill" do to an Englishman.