<h2 id="c5">WINTER’S SECRET.</h2>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">This beautiful day when the sun so bright</p>
<p class="t">Is giving my garment most beautiful hues,</p>
<p class="t0">I’ll just look over the birds in sight—</p>
<p class="t0">The living gems on my cloak of white—</p>
<p class="t">And the most precious I will choose.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">I’ll sit in my tent of brilliant blue</p>
<p class="t">And look through its lacings of willow gold,</p>
<p class="t0">That shows a flashing of cardinal hue.</p>
<p class="t0">Yes, that’s my redbird—I see him. Don’t you?</p>
<p class="t">He’s here if my breath is cold.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">There’s darker spots close by redbird’s flash;</p>
<p class="t">They look like shadows compared to him.</p>
<p class="t0">Now they dip in the brook where its waters plash</p>
<p class="t0">O’er the willow’s roots with a rippling clash,</p>
<p class="t">And drink from my ice cups so thin.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">I think they are snowbirds. Hello, little mutes!</p>
<p class="t">Just answer me now till I’m sure it is you.</p>
<p class="t0">You look with your rusty brownish suits,</p>
<p class="t0">As you flirt and dance o’er the frozen roots,</p>
<p class="t">Like the tasseled cords of my shoe.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Haw! haw! from the treetop laughs out crow.</p>
<p class="t">“Don’t you know I am out with the very best?</p>
<p class="t0">I love the sun, and I flap to and fro,</p>
<p class="t0">The one black-wing not afraid of the snow,</p>
<p class="t">Though you sometimes call me a pest.”</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">And Mr. Field Finch with chestnut hood,</p>
<p class="t">As he swings and sways on his weed perch brown,</p>
<p class="t0">Calls in tones that you will not use when you’re good,</p>
<p class="t0">“Can’t you see a body? See! I’m here near the wood</p>
<p class="t">Where the berries and seeds rattle down.”</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">I’ll now call Robin. Where are you, dear?</p>
<p class="t">I know I saw you this early morn,</p>
<p class="t0">A crimson breast in the pine tree here.</p>
<p class="t0">Come, Robin, come! I’m sure you are near;</p>
<p class="t">Yes, yonder you sit in that thorn.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Oh my cloak is so gay and its gems never rest,</p>
<p class="t">But flutter and shine, ’neath the rays of the sun;</p>
<p class="t0">So I’ll draw it close to my rugged breast,</p>
<p class="t0">And never will say which one I love best—</p>
<p class="t">For I love them all—every one.</p>
<p class="lr">—Mary Noland.</p>
</div>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</div>
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