File:A year with the birds (1917) (14563322849).jpg

Identifier: cu31924022541563 (find matches)
Title: A year with the birds
Year: 1917 (1910s)
Authors: Ball, Alice Eliza, 1867- Horsfall, R. Bruce (Robert Bruce), 1869-1948
Subjects: Birds Birds
Publisher: New York : Gibbs & Van Vleck
Contributing Library: Cornell University Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image:
es approveBy his loved mansionery that the heavens breathSmells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this birdHath made his pendant bed. Shakespeare: Macbeth 106 The Chimney Swift Some soft spring day, athwart the sky, A bird like a bow-and-arrow speeds by From tropic lands in the distant South. Tis the twittering Swift, that with open mouth And unwearying wings seeks insect prey; And countless others arrive straightway. Such flapping and whirling and wheeling about,Till the sun goes down, and the stars come out!Then hollow trees they speedily seek,Or chimneys unused; with feet tiny and weakAnd strong pointed tails, to the walls they cling.A flock of a thousand the night will bring! Their nests are pockets against the wall.Built deftly of sticks, which rarely fallBecause they are fastened too snug with a glueFrom the mouths of these birds of sable hue.The eggs of the swifts are of purest white.Like others in nests that are hidden from sight. A. E. B. 106
Text Appearing After Image:
The Nighthawk 107 The Nighthawk In the far-off land of China, One beholds a curious sight.On the shoes of little children, Eyes are fashioned, wondrous bright,So the small feet shall not stumble. But shall see the way to go;And on boats prows eyes are painted That shall guide them, safe and slow. There are birds that fly at twilight.With a call incessant, loud, Throats white-banded, mouths wide open-Busy, dusky, night-hawk crowd. As they circle in the darkness.Sharpest eyesight theirs must be; Bright eyes on their wings seem paintedThat shall guide them carefully. Gracefully they fly oer housetops; Then with wings half-closed, dive down,Till you fear theyll dash to pieces Gainst the chimneys of the town.They are slumbering at midnight. But at dawn may fly about;Often resting till the sun sets. When their insect prey comes out. A. E. B. 108 *5™™B?lHs

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