Bird And Bough

by John Burroughs

Overview

This delightful book contains a collection of beautiful poetry written by John Burroughs. A wonderful text sure to appeal to lovers of nature poetry, this anthology makes for a great addition to any personal library and is a veritable must-read for fans and collectors of Burroughs' work. Poems contained within this collection include: 'The Partridge', 'A March Glee', 'The Bluebird', 'The Song of the Toad', 'The Coming Phoebe', 'Spring Gladness', 'Early April', 'Hepatica', 'Trailing Arbutus', 'Arbutus Days', 'The Bush-Sparrow', 'The Swallow', 'Early May', 'In May', 'In Blooming Orchards', 'The Cuckoo', 'The Vesper Sparrow', 'June's Coming', 'The Hermit Thrush', 'Bobolink', and many others. This antique book was originally published in 1906, and is proudly republished now with a new introduction.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781406722116
Publisher:	Gayley Press
Publication date:	10/18/2007
Pages:	84
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.20(d)

Read an Excerpt

THE CUCKOO Strange, reserved, unsocial bird, Flitting, peering 'mid the leaves, Thy lonely call a twofold word Repeated like a soul that grieves " Kou-kou," " Kou-kou " a solemn plaint Now loud and full, now far and faint. A joyless winged anchorite, Or hapless exile in the land, Oft intoning in the night A rune I fain would understand " Kou-kou," ' Kou-kou," a boding cry, When night enfolds the earth and sky. With eye and motions of the dove, And throat that swells and heaves, Thy life seems quite untouched by love, Or by the spell that passion weaves. "Kou-kou," "Kou-kou," a doleful note, From out a smooth and dovelike throat. Thy nest a little scaffolding Of loosely woven boughs, Compared with nests of birds that sing, A hut beside a house. THE CUCKOO " Kou-kou," " Kou-kou," unsocial sound, When blithe and festive calls abound. Art prophet of the coming rain The raincrow, wise in weather lore ? Or dost thou try to say in vain The words of thine in days of yore ? "Kou-kou," "Kou-kou." Weird thy call, Though happy skies are over all. " Kou-kou," " Kou-kou," repeated oft, Like one who half recalls the chimes Of " Cuckoo," " Cuckoo," in wood and croft, Across the seas in Wordsworth's times. "Kou-kou," "Kou-kou," thy cheerless strain To country folk foretelleth rain. Thy voice hath lost its blithesome tone, Thy ways have changed from gay to grave; Do nesting cares make thee to moan Since finchie now is not thy slave ? " Kou-kou," " Kou-kou,,' in voice forlorn, As if thy breast were on a thorn. But thou hast gained in love, I ween, And gained in hue a burnished brown; In thicket dense thy nest is seen, And love of young is now thy crown. "Kou-kou," "Kou-kou," a call of love, Thoughdoleful as a mour...