And spotless Ptarmigan with boreal tempests come.
Resplendent thro' the grove the Turkey roams,
And lends a deeper grace to Christmas cheer;
Our silvery lakes still claim the graceful Swan;
And o'er the uplands shrill the Plover's pipe we hear.
Or come, where far on rolling Western plains,
Beneath the brushwood Sagefowl snugly lie;
And Prairie Hens rush boldly at the foe,
Their cowering brood to shield, as swoops the Falcon by.
A hunter thou? The grim Bear courts thy skill,