The lapse of two centuries from the time of Chaucer witnessed a change in the mood of English poetry in regard to its treatment of birds. The simple and unaffected joy in the voices of the grove, so conspicuous in the poems of the author of the Canterbury Tales, had not become less, but it had been accompanied by the growth of a more observant and contemplative spirit. While bird-music was as much appreciated as ever, a much wider field of interest in the feathered tribes had been entered upon. Greater familiarity with bird-life had been attained, and much more was known about the habits of birds. Of this knowledge use was made by way of simile and illustration in regard to human life. How often and how vividly, for instance, does Shakespeare, by means of an analogy from the world of birds, portray the depth of man’s feelings,—his joy, his sorrow and his suffering!

The law of evolution, which has been so supreme in the history of organised life on the globe, does not leave the human mind outside of its influence. If there was proof of progress in poetic insight between the days of Chaucer and those of Shakespeare, we may expect to find on examination that other two centuries did not pass without leaving some evidence of change in the tone of our poetry. To test this inference, some typical examples may be taken from the poetry of the nineteenth century where it deals with birds, for comparison with the quotations which have been cited from our great dramatist. The subject is obviously far too wide to be fully entered upon here; but it may be briefly illustrated by selecting three well-known poems by three of the most illustrious of the English poets of the nineteenth century—the “Ode to the Cuckoo” of Wordsworth, the “Ode to the Nightingale” of Keats, and the “Ode to the Skylark” of Shelley.

Coming anew to these poems from a prolonged perusal of Shakespeare, we are first struck by the fact that although so distinct from each other in thought as well as in music, they are akin in being not mere references to the birds, but actual addresses to particular members of the feathered tribes. In each case the ode is no cold description, but a monologue, glowing with appreciation and love, and spoken as it were directly to the subject itself. The birds are recognised as, like ourselves, “travellers between life and death.” Instead of being regarded as “unreasonable,” that is, devoid of any reasoning faculty, and gifted only with what is called “instinct,” they are felt to be linked with us by the possession of many qualities that are closely akin to some of the purest virtues of humanity. And they are acknowledged to be fellow-creatures, partners with us in the great mystery of life. They are communed with as if man’s longings could be made known to them, and as if they in turn might be brought to feel the reality and depth of his affectionate interest in them, or even perhaps be induced to reveal to him the secret of their careless happiness. The poets in their mystic rapture idealise these songsters until they almost seem to cease to be corporeal beings. Thus Wordsworth:

To the modern poet the voices of the birds seem to express more directly and simply than any other kind of music the pure joie de vivre. Shelley wrote of his Skylark:

Keats recognised the same joyous feeling in his Nightingale:

Each poet seeks to interpret for himself the meaning of the song of the bird and the sources of its inspiration. To Wordsworth the Cuckoo seems to be

To Keats the Nightingale was singing of “summer.” Shelley asks the Skylark:

Again, to the poet’s ear the bird-music awakens memories of the past. To Wordsworth the notes of the Cuckoo brought “a tale of visionary hours” in his boyhood when, in his endeavour to set eyes upon the bird, he would

To Keats the vista unfolded of the past reached far beyond his own time:

The modern poet finds in the varied notes of the birds not the bodings and portents, superstitiously associated in the olden time with such cries as those of the raven and the owl, but high and solemn thoughts of death and the hereafter. Shelley wrote of his Skylark:

And Keats found his heart attuned by the voice of the Nightingale to the contemplation of his own dissolution:

What the future course of English Poetry will be in this same domain cannot be confidently predicted. Already, after the lapse of another century since the three poems appeared which we have been considering, a certain change in the poetic mood with regard to living Nature can be more or less distinctly perceived. With such a splendid past to contemplate, we may be well assured that our Poetry will continue to be radiant with sympathy for all living things. The birds will not fail to retain their “pride of place” in the affections of each generation of poets, and their voices, in the future as in the past, will abide with man as the source of some of the purest pleasure that can solace his heart.