Before the cradled violets awake beneath the grass,

Or any but the crocuses and catkins have come back,

Always ’tis then the loveliest thing of all things comes to pass,—

A twit-twit-twitter on the mild spring breeze,

A twit-twit-twitter in the leafing trees,

Through which small sky-blue wings flash out a sky-blue track—

For blue-birds, first adventurous house-builders of the year,

Are at their old, wise tricks again of settling far and near.

Not long, ’tis when the hyacinths and tulips bloom in rows,

And lilies-of-the-valley start to whitening on their stems,

And woodsy things are opening fast to make a new out’-doors,

Then robin-redbreast on a sunny day

Comes taking life his usual charming way,

With a blithe and merry Che-che-chem-chem-chems!

While yet dry leaves and building twigs are left upon the ground

“I thought I’d come to the old place and take a look around.”

Then later, when the grasses curl, a-tilt in taller growth,

And nooks for snuggeries are made by grape and ivy-vines,

When lilacs stand in purple, and the plum-trees blossom forth,

Comes here a lilting, gay, and gaudy troop,

Tits, thrushes, bobolinks, blue-jays with noisy whoop,

Kingbirds, wild tumblers in the air, drunk with ethereal wines;

Then cardinals, and indigoes, and finches find the place,

And so the town-site in the trees grows populous apace.

One waiting for the apple-blooms is he who’s always late,

The oriole: his building-site none e’er disputes with him.

Though last to come he has full leave to settle, with his mate,

And hang his hammock up to rock and swing,

To flout the town on breezy, orange wing

From where his house sways airily adown a pendant limb.

And now the high, green tree-top town, which welcomes ev’ry comer,

Has settled to the business of singing out the summer.

—Austin Arnold McCausland.