The Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, Ohio) 1853-1861, 1855-03-17

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and one that rivals the European lark in my
destination, is the Boblincon, or Boblink, as
he is commonly called. He arrives at that
choice portion of our year, which, in this
latitude, answers to the description of the
month of May, so often given by the poets
With us, it begins about the middle of May,
and lasts until nearly the middle of June
Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on
its traces, and to blight the opening beauties
OF the year; and later than this, begin the
parching and painting, and dissolving heats
OF summer. But in this genial interval,
nature is in all her freshness and fra
GRANGE: "the rains over and gone, the
flowers appear upon the earth, the time
of the singing of birds is come, and the
voice of the turtle is heard in the land. .
The trees are now in their fullest foli-
age, and brightest verdure the woods
are gay with the clustered flowers of the
laurel !; the air is perfumed by the sweet
brier and the wild rose the meadows are
enamelled with clover blossoms; while the
young apple the peach and the plum, begin
to swell, and the cherry to glow, among the
green leaves.
This is the chosen season of revelry Of the
Boblink. Ne comes amidst the pomp and
fragrance of the season; his life seems all
sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sun
shine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms
of the freshest and the sweetest meadows
and is most in song when the clover is in
blossom. He pcrches on the topmost twigI
of tree, or on some long Haunting weed,
and as he rises and sinks with the breeze,
pours forth a succession of rich tnkling
notes, crowding one upon another, like the
outpouring melody of the skylark, and pos
COG tbo oyot,, char
times he pitches from the summit Of tree,
begins his song as soon as he gets upon the
wing, and flutters tremulously down to the
earth, as if overcome with ecstacy at his
own music Sometimes he is in pursuit of
his raramour; always in full song, as if he
would win her by his melody; and always
with the same appearance of intoxication
and delight
Of all the birds of our groves and mead
ows, the Boblink was the envy of my boy
hood. He crossed my path in the sweetest
weather, and the sweetest season of the
year, when all nature called to the fields,
and the rural feeling throbbed in every
bosom; but when l, luckless urchin was
doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong
day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a school
room. 1t seemed as if the little varlet
Knocked at me, as he flew by in full song,
and sought to taunt me with his happier lot
Oh, how l envied him. No lessons, no
task, no hateful school; nothing but holi-
day, frolic, green fields and fine weather.
Had | been then more versed in poetry,
might have addressed him in the words Of
Logan to the cuckoo:
Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note,
No winter in thy year.
Oh! could fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make, on joyful wing
Our annual visit round the globe,
Companions of the spring
Further observation and experience have
given me different idea of this little feath-
cred voluptuary, which will venture to i'm
part, for the benefit of my school boy readers,
who may regard him with the same unquali-
fled envy and admiration which | once in
dulged. I have shown him only as saw
him at first, in what may call the poetical
part of his career, when he in manner de-
voted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoy
ments, and was bird of music, and song,
and taste, and sensibility, and refinement.
While this lasted he was sacred from in
Jury; the very schoolboy would not fling
stone at him, and the merest rustic would
pause to listen TO his strain But mark the
difference. AS the year advances, as the