The Bird's Orchestra

Bobolink shall play the violin,Great applause to win;Lonely, sweet, and sad, the meadow larkPlays the oboe. Hark!That inspired bugle with a soul—'Tis the oriole;Yellow-bird the clarionet shall play,Blithe, and clear, and gay.Purple finch what instrument will suit?He can play the flute.Fire-winged blackbirds sound the merry fife,Soldiers without strife;And the robins wind the mellow hornLoudly eve and morn.Who shall clash the cymbals? Jay and crow;That is all they know.Hylas twang their harps so weird and high,Such a tuneful cry!And to roll the deep, melodious drum,Lo! the bull-frogs come!Then the splendid chorus, who shall singOf so fine a thing?Who the names of the performers callTruly, one and all?Blue-bird, bunting, cat-bird, chickadee(Phœbe-bird is he),Swallow, creeper, cross-bill, cuckoo, dove,Wee wren that I love;Brisk fly-catcher, finches—what a crowd!King-bird whistling loud;Sweet rose-breasted grossbeak, vireo, thrush—Hear these two, and hush;Scarlet tanager, song-sparrow small(Dearer he than all;At the first sound of his friendly voiceSaddest hearts rejoice),Redpoll, nuthatch, thrasher, plover gray—Curlew did I say?What a jangling all the grakles make!Is it some mistake?Anvil chorus yellow-hammers strike,And the wicked shrikeHarshly creaks like some half-open door;He can do no more.