"Oh, what was that, sister? The thunder? Did the shag bring the storm and the cloud, The wind and the rain and the lightning?” “Little brother, the thunder roars loud.

"Run fast, for the rain sweeps the ocean;
Look! over the lighthouse it streams;
And the lightning leaps red, and above us
The gulls fill the air with their screams.'

O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly,
The little white cottage they gain;

And safely they watch from the window
The dance and the rush of the rain.

But the shag kept his place on the headland, And, when the brief storm had gone by, He shook his loose plumes, and they saw him Rise splendid and strong in the sky.

Clinging fast to the gown of his sister,
The little boy laughed as he flew :

"He is gone with the wind and lightning!

And I am not frightened,

are you?

CELIA THAXTER.

THE LOST BIRD.

My bird has flown away,

Far out of sight has flown, I know not where. Look in your lawn, I pray,

Ye maidens kind and fair,

And see if my beloved bird be there.

His eyes are full of light;

The eagle of the rock has such an eye;
And plumes, exceeding bright,

Round his smooth temples lie,

And sweet his voice and tender as a sigh.

Look where the grass is gay

With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers ;
And search, from spray to spray,

The leafy laurel bowers,

For well he loves the laurels and the flowers.

Find him, but do not dwell,

With eyes too fond, on the fair form you see,
Nor love his song too well;

Send him, at once, to me,

Or leave him to the air and liberty.

For only from my hand
He takes the seed into his golden beak,
And all unwiped shall stand

The tears that wet my cheek,

Till I have found the wanderer I seek.

My sight is darkened o'er,
Whene'er I miss his eyes, which are my day,

And when I hear no more

The music of his lay,

My heart in utter sadness faints away.

From the Spanish of CAROLINA Coronado de PERRY.
Translated by W. C. BRYANT.

THE BIRDS MUST KNOW.

The birds must know.

Who wisely sings

Will sing as they;

The common air has generous wings,

Songs make their way.

No messenger to run before,
Devising plan;

No mention of the place or hour

To any man;

No waiting till some sound betrays
A listening ear;

No different voice, no new delays,
If steps draw near.

"What bird is that? Its song is good."

And eager eyes

Go peering through the dusky wood,

In glad surprise.

Then late at night, when by his fire
The traveller sits,

Watching the flame grow brighter, higher,
The sweet song flits

By snatches through his weary brain.

To help him rest;

When next he goes that road again

An empty nest

On leafless bough will make him sigh,
"Ah me! last spring

Just here I heard, in passing by,
That rare bird sing!"

But while he sighs, remembering
How sweet the song,

The common air has generous wings,

Songs make their way.

H. H.

THE BIRD KING.

Dost thou the monarch eagle seek?
Thou 'lt find him in the tempest's maw,
Where thunders with tornadoes speak,
And forests fly as though of straw;
Or on some lightning-splintered peak,
Sceptred with desolation's law,
The shrubless mountain in his beak,
The barren desert in his claw.

ALGER'S Oriental Poetry.

SHADOWS OF BIRDS.

In darkened air, alone with pain,
I lay. Like links of heavy chain
The minutes sounded, measuring day,
And slipping lifelessly away.
Sudden across my silent room
A shadow darker than its gloom
Swept swift; a shadow slim and small,
Which poised and darted on the wall,

And vanished quickly as it came.
A shadow, yet it lit like flame;
A shadow, yet I heard it sing,
And heard the rustle of its wing,
Till every pulse with joy was stirred;
It was the shadow of a bird!

Only the shadow! Yet it made
Full summer everywhere it strayed;
every bird I ever knew

And

Back and forth in the summer flew,
And breezes wafted over me

The scent of every flower and tree;
Till I forgot the pain and gloom
And silence of my darkened room.
Now, in the glorious open air

I watch the birds fly here and there;
And wonder, as each swift wing cleaves
The sky, if some poor soul that grieves
In lonely, darkened, silent walls,
Will catch the shadow as it falls!

H. H.

THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. "The rivers rush into the sea,

By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow.

"The clouds are passing far and high,
We little birds in them play;

And everything, that can sing and fly,
Goes with us, and far away.