The People in God's Out-of-Doors

 April 15, 1911

 I love to listen to the bird songs every day

And hear the free winds whisper in their play,

Among the tall old trees and sweet wild flowers.

I love to watch the little brook

That gushes from its cool and rocky bed

Deep in the earth. The sky is blue o'er head

And sunbeams dance upon its tiny rivulete.

I love the timid things

That gather round the little watercourse,

To listen to the frogs with voices hoarse,

And see the squirrels leap and bound at play.

Then, too, I love to hear

The loud clear whistle of the pretty quail,

To see the chipmunk flirt his saucy tail,

Then peep from out his home within the tree.

I love to watch the busy bees,

To see the rabbit scurry in the brush,

Or sit when falls the dewy evening's hush

And listen to the sad-voiced whippoorwill.

                                 From Mrs. Wilder's Nature Songs