Which never robin’s whistle stirred,
Where never blue-bird’s plume intrudes.
Quick darting through the dewy morn,
The redstart trilled his twittering horn
And vanished in thick boughs; at even
Like liquid pearls fresh showered from heaven,
The high notes of the lone wood-thrush
Fell on the forest’s holy hush;
But thou all day complainest here,—
“Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!”