BY GEORGE B. WALLIS .

Wilson, a chapter in thy luring book
Of ornithology, and I shall be
Driving the sedge-hen down the rumbling brook,
Or winding flankward on a shy kildee;
For, while unwillingly I move within
The focus of a city's smoke and din,
The page is welcome as the forest dell.
And I could wish to sit upon thy tomb,
When Evening's cheek was purpling into bloom,
To hear the gathering birds in concert swell
Their dirge above thee. From thy cage of gloom,
May thy freed spirit, newly fledged, arise,
On Time's departing morn, a Bird of Paradise.