Who that has marked the white owl's flight
Or blessed the lark at noon,
Or listened of a summer night
And startled at the loon.
Who that has browsed with blunt-nosed sheep
Or spied an adder drink,
Or seen a baby skunk asleep,
Or heard the bob-o-link—

Who so has fared, and felt no free
Delight within him run;
Then of the great freemasonry
Be sure he is not one.
But if his sentient ardour flow
For things that pad or fly,
With you and me—oh! surely know
He hath affinity.
. . . . . . . . . . . .

America and England breed
Those who are brothers still,
For that the beasts they love; and heed
Bird music on the hill!
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