Bettie's Books

"The cavern-loving Wren sequester'd seeksThe verdant shelter of the hollow stump;And with congenial moss, harmless deceit,Constructs a safe abode. On topmost boughsThe glossy Raven, and the hoarse-voiced Crow,Rock'd by the storm, erect their airy nests.The Ouzel, lone frequenter of the groveOf fragrant pines, in solemn depths of shadeFinds rest, or 'mid the holly's shining leaves;A simple bush, the piping Thrush contents,Though in the woodland concert he aloftTrills from his spotted throat a powerful strain,And scorns the humble choir. The Lark too asksA lowly dwelling hid beneath the turf,A hollow trodden by the sinking hoof:Songster of heaven! who to the sun such laysPours forth as earth ne'er owns. Within the hedgeThe Sparrow lays her sky-blue eggs. The barn,With eaves o'er-pendent, holds the chattering tribe.Secret the Linnet seeks the tangled copse.The White Owls seek some ruin'd antique wall,Fearless of rapine; or in hollow trees,Which age has cavern'd, safely courts repose.The thievish Pie, in twofold colours clad,Roofs o'er her curious nest with firm wreath'd twigs,And side-long forms her cautious door; she dreadsThe talon'd Kite, or pouncing Hawk, savageHerself, with craft suspicion ever dwells."Interesting; one to come back to for reference