re is September's sky--
And then their sad life closes.

_A Song for the Return of Birds_

Haste, little songsters, and return
To your nests in the silent wood;
The birches are lonely and they yearn
For your twittering brotherhood.
The leaves are green on the wakened trees
And the snow has left the moss;
The sighing breeze
With its symphonies
Suggests our greatest loss--
Haste, little birds, haste home!

Haste little songsters, for the Spring
Has come with her laughing train
Of radiant blossoms; and now the King
Is here, and the pattering rain.
The nights are warm and the days are long,
There is no more ice or frost;
And oh! we long
For a songbird's song,
For a music the woods have lost--
Haste, little birds, haste home!

_The Forest Cotillion_

When the wind is joyous-hearted it stirs the graceful spruces,
And they nod at one another and toss their arms in abandon;
Then they sway their supple bodies in wonderful undulations,
Keeping a perfect time with the wind's mysterious music.

Then the watchmen of the forest, the solemn and silent birches,
Bend stiffly their stately heads, saluting their laughing sisters;
And the alders wake from slumber, and the willows grieve no longer
When the wild wind woos the stream and sets the trees a-dancing.

_The Spruces of the Forest_

Unhappy trees, beneath whose graceful branches
No lovers walk, no children ever play;
Who never hear the sound of girlish laughter,
But pass in gloom your silent lives away;
I wonder if ye heed me as I press
My heart to yours in utter loneliness.

I wonder if ye see me as I wander
Along the trail no feet but mine e'er tread;
I wonder if ye hear me when I murmur
The name of one who might as well be dead
So far away, so very far is she--
I wonder if ye heed and pity me?

_The Wild Lover_

Sway your lithe arms, ye graceful trees,
The wind is out a-wooing!
Ye may be many, yet he sees
A way to your undoing.

Ye need not fear,
Though birds may hear
Your whispers or your sighs;
Or tell the night
Of your delight--
Nay, Nay, the birds are wise.

Your vestiture of maiden green
Doth very well