Poems (Thaxter)/The Bird's Orchestra
THE BIRDS' ORCHESTRA.
Bobolink shall play the violin, Great applause to win;Lonely, sweet, and sad, the meadow lark Plays the oboe. Hark!That inspired bugle with a soul— 'Tis the oriole;Yellow-bird the clarionet shall play, Blithe, and clear, and gay.Purple finch what instrument will suit? He can play the flute.Fire-winged blackbirds sound the merry fife, Soldiers without strife;And the robins wind the mellow horn Loudly eve and morn.Who shall clash the cymbals? Jay and crow; That is all they know.Hylas twang their harps so weird and high, Such a tuneful cry!And to roll the deep, melodious drum, Lo! the bull-frogs come!Then the splendid chorus, who shall sing Of so fine a thing? Who the names of the performers call Truly, one and all?Blue-bird, bunting, cat-bird, chickadee (Phœbe-bird is he),Swallow, creeper, cross-bill, cuckoo, dove, Wee wren that I love;Brisk fly-catcher, finches—what a crowd! King-bird whistling loud;Sweet rose-breasted grossbeak, vireo, thrush— Hear these two, and hush;Scarlet tanager, song-sparrow small (Dearer he than all;At the first sound of his friendly voice Saddest hearts rejoice),Redpoll, nuthatch, thrasher, plover gray— Curlew did I say?What a jangling all the grakles make! Is it some mistake?Anvil chorus yellow-hammers strike, And the wicked shrikeHarshly creaks like some half-open door; He can do no more.