Much of Wordsworth's time was spent in the open air, and every foot of ground in the neighborhood was traveled over by the poet and his inspiring companion. A large part of his verse was composed during these daily rambles. All lovers of nature have keen eyes and ears for its beauties. But Wordsworth was more than a mere observer and listener; to him nature was a great teacher that had for everyone a beautiful spiritual lesson. The following lines, written by the poet, show clearly his belief:

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher;
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

The subjects for most of Wordsworth's finest poetry were taken from the life that lay close about him-the fields and the brooks and the mountains, and the flocks and herds. No poet has done more to open our eyes to the beauty of nature than this man who lived with it and studied it for nearly eighty years.

The Lyric

Since many of the poems in "The World of Nature" are lyrics, it will be well for you to keep in mind some of the distinguishing characteristics of this form of poetry. The lyric is a short poem having a song-like quality. It takes its name from the lyre, a harp played by the ancient Greeks to accompany their songs. The lyric does not tell a story as do some poems. It is the author's expression of an emotion such as joy, sorrow, love; or it is his reflection on some of the mysteries or experiences of life. While, in this type of poem, the author may give beautiful descriptions of nature, these serve only as an aid in bringing out the emotion. The lyric may be sad or gay, but its perfection depends upon its singing quality. It must sing itself or suggest song. Study carefully the poems of Bryant, Cawein, Wordsworth, Tennyson, and other song writers that have appeared in this section of your book and observe in their lyrics illustrations of the qualities mentioned above. Decide from your study which lyric you enjoy most and why.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

1. The cuckoo is a European bird noted for its two-syllabled whistle, in imitation of which it is named. What two words does the poet use to explain this? Read all the lines in the poem that tell you the cuckoo is seldom seen by anyone. Do you think this adds to its charm? Give a reason for your answer.

2. What "time" is referred to in line 28? Why does the poet call it "golden"? From this poem, what picture do you get of the boy Wordsworth?

3. By how many other names does the poet call the cuckoo besides "wandering voice"? Why has the earth become to Wordsworth a "fairy place" again? Why is such a place a "fit home" for the cuckoo?

4. If you have ever had an experience in the nature world similar to that of Wordsworth's, tell it to the class.

5. Of the poems you have read in your book up to this point, which one, besides "The Cuckoo," would you consider the truest lyric?

Class Reading. You will enjoy hearing a member of the class read aloud "The Cuckoo" in such a way as to bring out its beauty of thought. Numerous poets have written about the cuckoo. If you have in your library The Home Book of Verse, Stevenson, let someone read in class John Logan's poem "To the Cuckoo," the last stanza of which is often quoted.

Learning by Heart

You will wish to learn by heart some of the beautiful thoughts brought to you by the Nature poets, so that these gems may be with you always. The memorizing of literary selections has many distinct educational advantages. It enriches your vocabulary and gives you a storehouse of beautiful expressions. It supplies you with a number of lofty sentiments artistically expressed, a permanent store of literary treasures which you can quote at will. Plan to memorize the poems, or parts of poems, you like best, and also certain prose passages that appeal to you. Perhaps you will wish to learn a part or all of "To the Cuckoo" as your first memory gem of the year.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Celia Thaxter (1835-1894), an American poet, was born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Her father was keeper of the United States Government lighthouse on White Island, one of the "Isles of Shoals," and it was there that much of her girlhood was spent. In 1851 she moved after her marriage to live on Appledore, another of the Isles of Shoals, and remained there until her death.

In her island home Celia Thaxter studied the sunrises and the sunsets, the wild flowers, the birds, the rocks, and the sea life. Her poetry and prose reflect the quiet life she lived. They express with simplicity and delicacy her feeling for the sea and its perils and also for the gentler aspects of nature. The selection given here shows how intimate was her friendship with the birds of the coast.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

Note. The sandpiper is a small shore bird, named for its habit of running on the sand, and for its constant call, "peep

peep." It is a good swimmer and is marvelously quick in dodging the waves just as they are about to break over its head.

1. Celia Thaxter had a task to perform; read the line in the first stanza that tells you what it was. For what purpose did she gather the "scattered driftwood"? Read the line in the first stanza which personifies the sea.

2. To what are the lighthouses compared in the second stanza? What kind of day was it?

3. How does the poet describe the cry of the sandpiper? What tells you that the little beach bird was not afraid of its companion? Why was it so fearless?

4. Did Celia Thaxter feel alarmed over the bird's safety in the coming storm? Read lines that give the answer.

5. Suppose that an artist were going to make you a sketch for this poem. Would you have him make it from the picture on page 67?

any different

Library Reading. "Hoactzins at Home," Beebe (in Child-Library Readers, Book Seven).

It was a bitter cold winter night, and the wind howled dismally in the treetops, making the great branches groan and writhe, as though they were possessed of feeling and it hurt them to be so violently handled.

It seemed to Ruff Grouse, as he swayed to and fro in the treetop where he was getting his supper, that the 10 night had never looked so cheerless

and uninviting. The wind rocked him so violently that he could hardly keep his perch, and occasionally when it got more boisterous than usual, showers of snow rattled down upon

him. But Ruff was a hardy fellow and it was not these things that bothered him; he was having considerable difficulty in finding his supper. Mast had not been so scarce in the whole 20 course of his existence, and the buds had been so kept back by the extreme cold that there was very little nourishment in them; besides all this, the birch in which he was hard at work had been cropped by Ruff and his friends and by two or three red squirrels until there was very little supper to be had, bad as it was.

The cold numbed his toes so that he could hardly hold on, and presently the wind grew so violent that Ruff gave up the task and flew into the top of a hemlock to shelter himself and get warm, and in the meantime to think of some new place to find supper. The lengthening shadows told him that he must be quick about 10 it or else trust to the moon, which was not always a safe thing to do, as the moon was fickle, and budding by moonlight exposed one to the peril of being picked up by an owl.

But cold and hunger bred recklessness in Ruff that night; so at last he started off on a hazardous enterprise, which was no more nor less than to get his supper off a fine greening tree off a fine greening tree 20 almost under the farmer's nose and within easy reach of the thunderstick. So he went sailing away over the treetops, flying as only a partridge can fly, to the orchard. The pale white stars were just peering through the steely blue sky, and the night would soon be on.

Presently the bird plumped down in the greening tree and fell to work 30 on the delicious buds, stopping frequently, though, to listen and to watch every changing light and shadow about the house. The tree was so near the buildings that it had not been touched by any of Ruff's friends-even the saucy red squirrel had shunned it-and the buds were very plentiful. How sweet they were after the dry birch buds, and how lucky he had 40 been to think of it! Ruff's crop, that had been so empty, was filling fast; but it was dangerous work, and more than once he stopped and was about to take wing, only to linger a minute longer to get just a few more buds. So

intent was the partridge on supper that he did not hear the shed window lifted carefully nor see the gun thrust out. But a sense of impending danger made him look up and he saw at once 50 his peril. With a quick spring he was off like an arrow, flying low in the hope of putting some friendly bush or fence between him and the marksman. But what bird, however strong of wing, can fly like the hailstones from a thunderstick?

There was a bright flash, a deafening roar, and a rush of the sharp pellets about Ruff. The force of the charge 60 carried him several feet out of his course, and at first he thought he must fall; but with a great effort he nerved himself, stifled the pain, and flew on, for this was the only safe thing to do. When the smoke had cleared away, the farmer saw a few feathers flying in the breeze, while the partridge was sailing for the woods forty rods

But the farmer would have thought better of the gun had he seen the partridge plump down into a snowbank as soon as he reached the woods, 80 and wriggle out of sight in the snow, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Poor Ruff snuggled as far down into the snow as possible and then lay still, trying hard to forget the ache in his leg and the sharp pain in his wing. It was humiliating to have several of one's tail-feathers shot away, and the beauty of that splendid fan, upon which he so prided himself, for 90

10

20

the time being spoiled, but that was nothing to the possibility of a broken leg or wing. The tail-feathers would grow again, and at the best they were merely ornamental, but a leg or a wing was quite another matter, and a partridge that could not fly might as well give up to the first fox that happened along.

At the thought of a fox, Ruff remembered the blood spots he had left on the snow, and he knew that it was very dangerous for him to be lying where he was, with so plain a scent to tell of his whereabouts; so with a great effort he wriggled out of the snow and flew up into a treetop. His wing was not broken, though it hurt him terribly to fly.

But it was so cold in the treetop that he was numbed in a few minutes, and the wind cut him like a knife. He never could spend the night in the tree; he would have to find a new spot in which to burrow, and be careful not to leave a scent upon the snow. So he picked out a spot where it was drifted and the snow looked soft, and plunged down into it with all his might. The 30 force of his flight carried him in out

of sight, and the wind filled up the hole and smoothed it over, so that no one would have guessed that a live partridge lay buried in the drift.

It was quite warm down there, and Ruff would have been comfortable had it not been for his wounded leg and wing; but after a while the cold snow began to be so soothing to them, 40 drawing out the fever and quieting

the pain, that the bird soon fell asleep and dreamed of spring and of drumming on the old log to call some lady partridge and begin the spring courting.

How long he slept Ruff did not know, but suddenly he awoke with the same sensation of danger that he had felt just before the farmer shot him. He lay very quiet and listened, for 50 nothing is ever gained by hasty action in a time of danger. He could hear a sound above him like something digging, and now and then an occasional sniff.

Ruff's feathers stood up with fright, and his eyes grew big with terror; it was Sir Reynard, and the fox was after him. escape. Ruff 60

There was one hope of had taken the precaution to burrow several feet in the snow toward a shallow place; he now hoped to reach this place in the drift before the fox reached him. He began quietly burrowing away from the sound of the fox's digging. He could not work very fast, for fear the fox might hear him, and all the time Sir Reynard was getting nearer and nearer to him. It 70 was a fearful moment for Ruff, but his quick wit and strong nerve did

not forsake him. At last he could

not forsake him.

feel the snow giving above him, but the fox was almost upon him; the partridge could hear his eager sniffing and frantic digging. With a quick motion Ruff brushed the snow away and with a whir of his wings rose in the air, but he was not quicker than so the lithe fox that sprang at him as he rose. There was a snap of the hungry jaws, and Sir Reynard's teeth closed upon Ruff's toes, but not strongly enough to hold him, and the partridge broke away and whirred over the treetops into the darkness.

For several minutes he flew about and then alighted in the top of a spruce to consider where to spend the re- 90