A recent convention of Nature’s musicians

(Their entire resolutions the Owlet quotes)

Took “high southern ground,” and, from lofty positions,

All muffled in feathers and down, to their throats,

Resolved to expel, without any conditions,

The cuckoo-like fellow who stole their best notes.

With spirit the Song-sparrow opened the session;

“I’m with you,” whistled the Oriole, “I

Would like him subjected to public confession”—

“And fined!” the Vireo said with a sigh.

“Pshaw!” hissed the Wren, with ruffled aggression,

“Pluck him, I say, and then bid him fly!”

Answered the Brown Thrush, high in his palace,

“’Tis true I have taken your notes—less or more—

And mingled them well (for I bear you no malice),

Just as the wines some wizard of yore

Would mingle together, then pour from his chalice

Magic new wine never tasted before!”