Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1895-04-18
COMING or THE BINDS.

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COMING OF THE alaDS
- 1eem N Prose Anene the Sweet Har.
% sPl,nstlme.
=. Jays tne oiue SKY had dreamed
tneir coming, and the warm south
ess1es nao whispered 1t The chicka-
ee seemeo lonely and his usual CHEEKY
s.l.-u nao = MINOR note. The pink
nep.1acs ouos peeped from their last
yeA. leaves, Dut no happy-hearted
-Ion ssng 70 welcome them; where
~ tne clross The sky. the flowers,
s s1Aau le seemed ready and wait
lug ~. tner coming. But the blue sky
va oesePsive ana cruel. and before
ens the pink hepatica buds were
lo1en ana the brave Towering fern
snAs .ncuriea ner tasseied fronds that
turning IN the sunlight, meekly laid
ner neao 70 die. Why did you
snie, on, san. TO call these forth to
s.sn : Daster rate? But the wind whis-
sieo sne sieet against the window for
reply ana thought, as fell asleep,
- wen the birds have delayed their
coming.
~ was dark when awoke the next
morning; over the mountains the sun
was iazIy climbing, till the rosy beams
"of the sunrise reflected on the roofs Of
Tue Sleeping village.
ouuoeniy rom q maple tree near the
mouse, clear and sweet as the chime of
q silver bell, came the glad strain of q
song sparrow. Again and again he
sang, tin 1t seemed as 1t my heart
STOOD Sill TO listen From an apple
tree down in the orchard came the rich,
deep "tschip" OF the mate--then the
wild strain of the first singer, while
the sun rose higher and higher. cast
ing golden glow over the hillside.
soon the sweet singer and his little
mate new over the field for their break
lasts, but the song remained and nestled
deep in my heart.
The rumbling OF milk wagons told me
the village was awakening, and 1 won
-dered who with me had rejoiced over
the return OF the song sparrow. Under
many q window. / thought. has some
sweet-voiced member Of this flock sung
his message and no one has heard.
Just below in the field two men were
working. on the fence song sparrow
sang his three songs, but they did not
hear, for their hearts were closed to the
language. In the next cottage the
windows were open, but the good wom-
an OF the house did not hear the song
from the apple trees; yet still the song
sparrow sang. Do you think he cared
for his audience?
One by one, fat robins announced
their arrival by loud peeps from the
garden, or hoped along the lawn
hunting for stray worms. The robin
does not sing when he first arrives, but
waits for better weather and till his
domestic affairs are happily arranged.
His ONLY attempts at music will be at
dusk, when the sweet trills of the
vesper and song sparrows fill the air
and shame him, perhaps, for his si-
lence, for he will sit and scold and
jerk his long tail by the hour. When
the bluebirds arrive and MARBLE their
silver purity from the roadside, the
robin begins series of softer and rich
-er notes, preparing us by degrees
for his CHEEKY song. I never can see
elm trees budding in the spring but I
think of the purple finch and the first
ONE heard sing his beautiful song.
The nine trees and cedars bring to
mind the tremulous high notes of the
white throated sparrow or the wild
strain of the ruby crowned kinglet.
Over the meadows in the early spring
comes the mournful whistle of the
meadow lark. filing the air with It's
plaintive sadness. He wears a badge
of MOURNING on his breast. and his soft
notes seem to voice his grief, for he has
an incurable sorrow in his heart no
one NAV understand, How the snow
bound farmers rejoice at his coming,
for when the ..meddern lark starts his
vhistlinu sprinp has surely come to
stay.
Now is the time for the conventions
of the blackbirds on the fields and
marshes bordering the river. They
call together their friends and rela-
tions from far and near, and how ex-
citedly they talk! What is the subject
of the discussions? Tell me why they
have met here and not in the high trees
of the forest where they nest? Listen
to the voice Of tie leader as he talks,
walking about excitedly. The king
fisher as he flies by checks his shrill
alarm and stops ON the willow boughs
to listen.
The old willow wisely shakes her
head. but keeps their secrets, WHAT