But a single creature utters it, pronounces it for all of us, sings it. Who? One of the weak—which fears most keenly the night, and hails with eagerest joy the morning—which lives in and by the light—whose tender, infinitely sensitive, extended, penetrating vision, discerns all its accidents—and which is most intimately associated with the decline, the eclipses, and the resurrection of light.
The bird for all nature chants the morning hymn and the benediction of the day. He is her priest and her augur, her divine and innocent voice.
STORM AND WINTER—MIGRATIONS.
