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How falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly
In tropic splendor through our Northern sky?

At some glad moment was it nature's choice
To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?

Or did some orange tulip, flaked with black,

In some forgotten garden, ages back,

Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard, Desire unspeakably to be a bird?

EDGAR FAWCETT.

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What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O, 't is the ravished nightingale -
Jug, jug, jug, jug―tereu she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! who is 't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear,
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark! but what a pretty note,
Poor Robin-red breast tunes his throat;
Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing
"Cuckoo !" to welcome in the spring.
Alexander and Campaspe, Act v. Sc. 1.

JOHN LYLY

• Bartlett says, "It was Cowper who gave this now common name to the Mignonette."

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POEMS OF PEACE

AND WAR

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