THE TRIUMPH OF THE BROWN THRUSH

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!”