[Illustration: THE LARK.]
[Illustration: THE LINNET.]
Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh
effulgence, how frequently we see the goldfinch perch on some blossomed
bough, and hear its song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic;
while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden
wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. The notes of the cuckoo
blend with this cheering concert in a pleasing manner, and for a short
time are highly grateful to the ear. But sweet as this singular song is,
it would tire by its uniformity, were it not given in so transient a
manner.
At length evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the
concert softly dies away. The sun is seen no more. The robin again sends
up his twilight song, till the more serene hour of night sets him to the
bower to rest. And now to close the scene in full and perfect harmony;
no sooner is the voice of the robin hushed, and night again spreads in
gloom over the horizon, than the owl sends forth his slow and solemn
tones. They are more than plaintive and less than melancholy, and tend
to inspire the imagination with a train of contemplations well adapted
to the serious hour.
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