Bird Lore, 19-20. kötetMacmillan Company, 1917 |
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00 I OO American April Association of Audubon Audubon Society August Bird Club bird-houses bird-life BIRD-LORE bird-study birds Black-capped Chickadee Blackbird Blue Jay Bluebird Bob-white Brown Creeper Cardinal Charles Christmas Census color Crow Downy Woodpecker Duck eggs English Sparrow feathers feeding Flicker flock garden George GILBERT PEARSON Golden-crowned Kinglet Goldfinch Grackle Grosbeak ground Gull Hairy Woodpecker Heron Horned Lark interest Island John Lake male March Meadowlark migration miles Miss National Association nest North Northern Northern Shrike notes observed October P.M. Clear P.M. Cloudy Photographed Pine Siskin plumage President protection Purple Finch record Red-breasted Redpoll reported Robin Sandpiper schools season Secretary seen September Shrike Slate-colored Junco snow Song Sparrow Sparrow Hawk species spring Starling summer Swallows temp tion Total Tree Sparrow Tufted Titmouse Waxwing Western White-breasted Nuthatch White-throated Sparrow Wild Birds William wind wings winter Winter Wren woods York City young
Népszerű szakaszok
164. oldal - Prison'd in marble, bubbling from the base Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy, creep cxv. cxvii. Fantastically tangled; the green hills Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills Of summer-birds sing welcome as ye pass...
105. oldal - Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? And loved so well a high behavior, In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, Nobility more nobly to repay? O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine!
164. oldal - The world is all before me; I but ask Of Nature that with which she will comply — It is but in her summer's sun to bask, To mingle with the quiet of her sky, To see her gentle face without a mask, And never gaze on it with apathy.
309. oldal - The thrush that carols at the dawn of day From the green steeples of the piny wood ; The oriole in the elm; the noisy jay, Jargoning like a foreigner at his food; The blue-bird balanced on some topmost spray, Flooding with melody the neighborhood; Linnet and meadow-lark, and all the throng That dwell in nests, and have the gift of song.
172. oldal - BIRD. HAVE you ever heard of the Sing-away bird, That sings where the Runaway River Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills That stand in the sunshine and shiver ? " Oh, sing ! sing-away ! sing-away...
347. oldal - Laboring upon the gates, driving and banging, With their hard hatchet beaks, and such a din, Such a clatter as they made, hammering and hacking, In a perpetual peal, pelting away Like shipwrights, hard at work in the arsenal, And now their work is finished, gates and all, Staples and bolts, and bars and everything; The sentries at their posts; patrols appointed...
243. oldal - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere, Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
185. oldal - ... the creation. There, through the clear and rarified atmosphere, the raven spreads his glossy wings and tail ; and, as he onward sails, rises higher and higher each bold sweep that he makes, as if conscious that the nearer he approaches the sun, the more splendent will become the tints of his plumage.
346. oldal - There came a body of thirty thousand cranes (I won't be positive, there might be more) With stones from Africa, in their craws and gizzards, Which the stone-curlews and stone-chatterers Worked into shape and finished.
169. oldal - But one beautiful day in the springtime I spied a brown bird in a tree, Merrily swinging and chirping, As happy as bird could be; And, raising my gun in a twinkling, I fired and my aim was too true; For a moment the little thing fluttered. Then off to the bushes it flew. I followed it quickly and softly, And there to my sorrow I found, Right close to its nest full of young ones The little bird dead on the ground. Poor birdies, for food they were calling; But now they could never be fed, For the kind...