How the Birds Came

AN INDIAN LEGEND All summer long the forest trees Had raised their leaves for dew and breeze; But colder grew the autumn sun And, slowly fading, one by one The leaves came drifting down the air Till soon the boughs would all be bare. What sadness comes with fall of leaf! The great trees bent their heads in grief And raised their knotted arms to call In prayer on Him Who made them all: 'O Gitche Manitou above, Shall all be lost of these we love?' In thunder roll and lightning flame The Mighty Spirit's answer came: 'Behold, my forest, tempest-tossed, How all must change, yet naught be lost!' And while they heard the Master's words, The drifting leaves were changed to birds! The leaves of willow fluttered down As Finches, tawny, green, and brown. The red and russet leaves of oak Became the Thrush and Robin folk. The golden beech-leaves learned to fly As Yellowbirds athwart the sky; While all the maple leaves that turned In changing hues that glowed and burned Took wing across the wooded knolls As Tanagers and Orioles! So, every year when laughing Spring Dissolves the snows, on eager wing The birds of forest, hill, and glen Return to know their trees again- To build their nests, to peer and stir Among the leaves of which they were; And from those boughs where once they grew They sing to Gitche Manitou.