THE CATBIRD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON

A SKULKER in a thicket, loud and harsh
His note, his message so unbeautiful
It does belie his bird shape, cheat the sense.
But hark! All suddenly a wondrous lay
And from the self-same throat. 'Tis now a thrush
Uttering its nunlike spirit on the air;
And now a robin, cheery-sweet and plumed
For morning minstrelsy that wakes the day;
And now a mingled rapture of them both
With Somewhat superadded. A strange bird,
Yet in his fashion not unlike to man,
Who often hides a music-potent soul
Under some uncouth semblance of a song
That strikes the ear but lamely, -- till some stress
Of life, some lyric impulse, bids him break
His custom, and the world is blessedly
Enthralled, the melody is so divine.

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