Apping at the door of spring, and the dry limb thrills bene

[Moncrieffe]

Aucy, and
he has a tongue in his head that can outwag any
other tongue known to me. The bluebirds said nothing, but the male kept an eye on
Mr. Wren, and, when he came too near, gave chase, driving him to cover under the
fence, or under a rubbish-heap or other object, where the wren would scold and rattle away, while his pursuer sat on the fence or the pea-brush waiting for him to reappear. Days passed, and
the usurpers prospered and the outcasts were wretched;
but the latter lingered about, watching and ab
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