LITMIR.BIZ

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In a moment more he began to sing, and the birds about him began to reply, but in a very different tone from that in which they had replied to the owl. Oh, the birds did call the nightingale such pretty names! The nightingale sang, and the birds replied like this:—

        "I will sing a song.

          I'm the nightingale.'

        'Sing a song, long, long,

          Little Neverfail!

        What will you sing about,

          Light in or light out?'

        'Sing about the light

          Gone away;

        Down, away, and out of sight—

          Poor lost day!

        Mourning for the day dead,

          O'er his dim bed.'

      "The nightingale sang so sweetly, that the children would have fallen asleep but for fear of losing any of the song. When the nightingale stopped they got up and wandered on. They did not know where they were going, but they thought it best to keep going on, because then they might come upon something or other. They were very sorry they forgot to ask the nightingale about the eagle's nest, but his music had put everything else out of their heads. They resolved, however, not to forget the next time they had a chance. They went on and on, till they were both tired, and Tricksey-Wee said at last, trying to laugh,

      "'I declare my legs feel just like a Dutch doll's.'

      "'Then here's the place to go to bed in,' said Buffy-Bob.

      "They stood at the edge of a last year's nest, and looked down with delight into the round, mossy cave. Then they crept gently in, and, lying down in each other's arms, found it so deep, and warm, and comfortable, and soft, that they were soon fast asleep.

      "Now close beside them, in a hollow, was another nest, in which lay a lark and his wife; and the children were awakened very early in the morning, by a dispute between Mr. and Mrs. Lark.

      "'Let me up,' said the lark.

      "'It is not time,' said the lark's wife.

      "'It is,' said the lark, rather rudely. 'The darkness is quite thin. I can almost see my own beak.'

      "'Nonsense!' said the lark's wife. 'You know you came home yesterday morning quite worn out—you had to fly so very high before you saw him. I am sure he would not mind if you took it a little easier. Do be quiet and go to sleep again.'

      "'That's not it at all,' said the lark. 'He doesn't want me. I want him. Let me up, I say.'

      "He began to sing; and Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob, having now learned the way, answered him:—

        "'I will sing a song,

          I'm the Lark.'

        'Sing, sing, Throat-strong,

          Little Kill-the-dark.

        What will you sing about,

          Now the night is out?'

        "'I can only call;

          I can't think.

        Let me up—that's all.

          Let me drink!

        Thirsting all the long night

          For a drink of light.'

      "By this time the lark was standing on the edge of his nest and looking at the children.

      "'Poor little things! You can't fly,' said the lark.

      "'No; but we can look up,' said Tricksey.

      "'Ah! you don't know what it is to see the very first of the sun.'

      "'But we know what it is to wait till he comes. He's no worse for your seeing him first, is he?'

      "'Oh! no, certainly not,' answered the lark, with condescension; and then, bursting into his jubilate, he sprung aloft, clapping his wings like a clock running down.

      "'Tell us where—' began Buffy-Bob.

      "But the lark was out of sight. His song was all that was left of him.

      That was everywhere, and he was nowhere.

      "'Selfish bird!' said Buffy. 'It's all very well for larks to go hunting the sun, but they have no business to despise their neighbours, for all that.'

      "'Can I be of any use to you?' said a sweet bird-voice out of the nest. This was the lark's wife, who staid at home with the young larks while her husband went to church.

      "'Oh! thank you. If you please,' answered Tricksey-Wee.

      "And up popped a pretty brown head; and then up came a brown feathery body; and last of all came the slender legs on to the edge of the nest. There she turned, and, looking down into the nest, from which came a whole litany of chirpings for breakfast, said, 'Lie still, little ones.' Then she turned to the children. 'My husband is King of the Larks,' she said.

      "Buffy-Bob took off his cap, and Tricksey-Wee courtesied very low.

      "'Oh, it's not me,' said the bird, looking very shy. 'I am only his wife. It's my husband.'And she looked up after him into the sky, whence his song was still falling like a shower of musical hailstones. Perhaps she could see him.

      "'He's a splendid bird,' said Buffy-Bob; 'only you know he will get up a little too early.'

      "'Oh, no! he doesn't. It's only his way, you know. But tell me what I can do for you.'

      "'Tell us, please, Lady Lark, where the she-eagle lives that sits on Giant Thunderthump's heart.'

      "'Oh! that is a secret.'

      "'Did you promise not to tell?'

      "'No; but larks ought to be discreet. They see more than other birds.'

      "'But you don't fly up high like your husband, do you?'

      "'Not often. But it's no matter. I come to know things for all that.'

      "'Do tell me, and I will sing you a song,' said Tricksey-Wee.

      "'Can you sing too?'

      "'Yes. And I will sing you a song I learned the other day about a lark and his wife.'

      "'Please do,' said the lark's wife. 'Be quiet, children, and listen.'

      "Tricksey-Wee was very glad she happened to know a song which would please the lark's wife, at least, whatever the lark himself might have thought of it, if he had heard it. So she sang:

        "'Good morrow, my lord!' in the sky alone,

        Sang the lark, as the sun ascended his throne.

        'Shine on me, my lord; I only am come,

        Of all your servants, to welcome you home.

        I have flown for an hour, right up, I swear,

        To catch the first shine of your golden hair!'

        'Must I thank you, then,' said the king, 'Sir Lark,

        For flying so high, and hating the dark?

        You ask a full cup for half a thirst:

        Half is love of me, and half love to be first.

        There's many a bird that makes no haste,

        But waits till I come. That's as much to my taste.'

        And the king hid his head in a turban of cloud;

        And the lark stopped singing, quite vexed and cowed.

        But he flew up higher, and thought, 'Anon,

        The wrath of the king will be over and gone;

        And his crown, shining out of the cloudy fold,

        Will change my brown feathers to a glory of gold.'

        So

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