June 13, 1909. Omaha Sunday Bee 38(52): part 4, page 2. Our Trip to Birdland.By Frances Johnson, 13 years, 933 North Twenty-fifth Avenue, Omaha. Blue side. (This poem is based on a recent birding trip by two Busy Bees.) I.
- It was an ideal day in perfect May,
- Butterflies flitted o'er flower-faces gay;
- Softly shed they their fragrant breath, the sweet apple bloom—
- While the dainty wild plum wafted fragrant perfumes
- To a woodland nook where the two girl friends sat by a brook.
- Perhaps you would have thought their expressions quite glum,
- But you know not the reason for which they had come.
- They were very wide awake all the same,
- And to see Birdville choir was their greatest aim.
II.
- Ah, what is that? Tread lightly—hark!
- Is not that the song of the meadow lark?
- It's he who prefers his larklings concealed
- In some fragrant meadow, or in some grassy field.
- Oh, see the thrasher up in that tree!
- Hear him warble forth his sparkling notes of glee!
- Did you, as he flew, the oriole behold,
- With his shining gown of black all trimmed in richer gold
- Than e'en e'er wore the pagan kings of old?
III.
- There sits the blue bird, with his back of velvety blue;
- Ah, who could wish to see a more brilliant hue!
- Not e'en the one who has seen the Vesuvian bay, so blue;
- Not e'en the one who has had of some clear Swiss lake a view.
- Then there was somber cat-bird, with his medley of notes,
- While in the swamps there were scores of Maryland yellowthroats.
- Amid the dandelions the friends espied swarms of gold finches,
- And it would be very hard to decide
- Which was prettier, Mr. Wren or his plain but pretty bride.
IV.
- The swallow was next on their program to see,
- As he dipped through the air so swiftly and free.
- Once they thought an old oak on fire,
- But soon perceived 'twas cardinal in his most gorgeous attire.
- This, of a sudden, was the conversation to be heard:
- "Oh, look over in that cottonwood, pray, what is that bird?
- Did e'er you hear such a mysterious squeak?"
- "Ah, dear friend, that's the rose-breasted grosbeak!"
V.
- Then they saw Mr. Woodpecker, with his conspicuous apron of white,
- And his cap, all gemmed in rubles, presented a most brilliant sight.
- Now my pen will stop for this time,
- For fear the Busy Bees tire of such a monotonous rhyme.
- But let me say, just one more thing,
- That those songs in my ears re-echo and ring;
- For, besides I, the other one was—don't you know who I mean?"
- It was Myrtle Jensen, our former sovereign queen!"
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