The Blue Bird

The Blue Bird - Sialia sialis 

The Bluebird

By Maurice Thompson 

Sing strong and clear, O Bluebird, dear! 
While all the land with splendor fills, 

While maples gladden in the vales, 

And plum-trees blossom on the hills;

 Float down the wind on shining wings, 

And do thy will by grove and stream, 

While through my life spring's freshness runs 

Like music through a poet's dream. 

One of the first birds to arrive in the spring migration is the Bluebird. One may wander through the woods in the early part of March, when the icy chill of winter, and the warmth of the coming spring seem struggling for the mastery, and hear the clear sweet warble of this beautiful bird. What wonder is it that the early New England settlers called him the Blue Robin and hailed his coming with delight. 

THE BLUEBIRD 

By Rexford 

Winged lute that we call a bluebird, 

You blend in a silver strain 

The sound of the laughing waters, 

The patter of Spring's sweet rain; 

The voice of the winds, the sunshine, 

And fragrance of blossoming things. 

Ah! you are an April poem, 

That God has dowered with wings. 

THE BLUEBIRD 

By EMILY H. MILLER

I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing 

Out in the apple-tree, where he is swinging. 

Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary,- 

Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. 

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat! 

Hark! was there ever so merry a note? 

Listen awhile and you ll hear what he's saying 

Up in the apple-trees swinging and swaying. 

"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow 

You must be weary of winter, I know; 

Hark while I sing you a message of cheer; 

Summer is coming and springtime is here. 

Little white snowdrop! I pray you arise; 

Bright, yellow crocus, come open your eyes. 

Sweet little violets, hid from cold, 

Put on your mantles of purple and gold. 

Daffodils! daffodils! saym do you hear? 

Summer is coming and springtime is here." 

MEMORY GEM 

"O, BLUEBIRD, up in the maple tree, 

Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee; 

How did you happen to be so blue? 

Did you steal a bit of the sky for your crest, 

And fasten blue violets into your breast? 

Tell me, I pray you, tell me true!" 

THE BLUE BIRD.

By  EBEN E. REXFORD

Listen a moment, I pray you! 

What was that sound I heard? 

Wind in the budding branches, 

The ripple of brooks, or a bird?

Hear it again, above us, 

And see, a flutter of wings! 

The Blue bird knows it is April, 

And soars to the sun and sings. 

Never the song of the Robin 

Could make my heart so glad; 

When I hear the Blue bird singing, 

In spring, I forget to be sad. 

Never was sweeter music- 

Sunshine turned into a song, 

To set us dreaming of summer, 

When the days and the dreams are long. 

 Winged lute, that we call a Blue bird, 

You blend in a silver strain 

The sound of the laughing waters, 

The patter of spring's sweet rain. 

The voice of the winds, the sunshine, 

And fragrance of blossoming things. 

Ah! you are a poem of April 

That God has dowered with wings.

References:

1. BIRDS and NATURE IN NATURAL COLORS JANUARY 1904 ΤΟ MAY 1904 

2. The School 1917

3. THE PRIMARY PLAN BOOK BY MARIAN M. GEORGE A FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 1912

4. VICK'S ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE 1904