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1854–1925

THE TRIUMPH OF THE BROWN THRUSH

Edith Matilda Thomas

A recent convention of Nature's musicians ( Their entire resolutions the Owlet quotes ) Took “high southern ground,” and, from lofty positions, All muffled in feathers and down, to their throats,

Resolved to expel, without any conditions, The cuckoo-like fellow who stole their best notes. With spirit the Song-sparrow opened the session; “I'm with you,” whistled the Oriole, “I

Would like him subjected to public confession” — “And fined!” the Vireo said with a sigh. “Pshaw!” hissed the Wren, with ruffled aggression, “Pluck him, I say, and then bid him fly!”

Answered the Brown Thrush, high in his palace, “‘ Tis true I have taken your notes — less or more — And mingled them well ( for I bear you no malice ), Just as the wines some wizard of yore

Would mingle together, then pour from his chalice Magic new wine never tasted before!”

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