How to Tell the Birds from the Flowers and Other Woodcuts quotes

Some are unable, as you know, To tell the Crocus from the Crow; The reason why is just be‑caws They are not versed in Nature’s laws. The noisy cawing Crows all come, Obedient to the Cro’custom, A large Crow Caw‑cus to convoke.

You never hear the Crocus croak!

The Plover and the Clover can be told apart with ease, By paying close attention to the habits of the Bees, For En‑to‑molo‑gists aver, the Bee can be in Clover, While Ety‑molo‑gists concur, there is no B in Plover.

The Plover and the Clover can be told apart with ease, By paying close attention to the habits of the Bees,

For En‑to‑molo‑gists aver, the Bee can be in Clover, While Ety‑molo‑gists concur, there is no B in Plover.

The Gander loves to promenade, Around the farmer’s poultry yard, While as we see, the Oleander Is quite unable to meander: The Gardener tied it up indeed, Fearing that it might run to seed.

The Gander loves to promenade, Around the farmer’s poultry yard, While as we see, the Oleander Is quite unable to meander: The Gardener tied it up indeed, Fearing that it might run to seed.

Lichens, regardless of conventions, Exist in only two dimensions,

A life restricted to a plane, On rocks and stones a greenish stain, They live upon the simplest fare, A drop of dew, a breath of air.

Here in the pod we see the Pea, While perched close by is the Pewee; The Pea he hears the Pewee peep, While Pewee sees the wee Pea weep, There’ll be but little time to see, How Pewee differs from the Pea.

The Parrot and the Carrot one may easily confound,

They’re very much alike in looks and similar in sound, We recognize the Parrot by his clear articulation, For Carrots are unable to engage in conversation.

The Parrot and the Carrot one may easily confound, They’re very much alike in looks and similar in sound, We recognize the Parrot by his clear articulation,

For Carrots are unable to engage in conversation.

When you awake at half‑past‑two, And hear a “Cock‑a‑doodle‑doo,” No argument need then ensue, It is the Rooster, not the Rue, Which never thus disturbs our dreams, With ruthless rude nocturnal screams.

When you awake at half‑past‑two, And hear a “Cock‑a‑doodle‑doo,” No argument need then ensue, It is the Rooster, not the Rue, Which never thus disturbs our dreams, With ruthless rude nocturnal screams.

We sleep less soundly than we used ter And love the Rue but rue the Rooster.

To recognize this bird‑of‑prey, The broody hen you should survey: She takes her chicks on daily walks, Among the neighboring Hollyhocks, While with the Hawk association, Is quite beyond her toleration.

He is not always doomed to be Thus bound to earth e‑tern‑ally For “cooked to a tern” may be inferred, To change the Turnip to a bird.

Observe the Turnip in the Pot. The Tern is glad that he is not!

You must not make ad‑verse remarks, About my drawing of the Larks. For, by the minor poet’s lore The Larks‑per‑pet‑ually soar. While Larkspurs, bordering garden walks, Are perched securely on their stalks.

Upon this cake of ice is perched, The paddle-footed Puffin:

To find his double I have searched, But have discovered⁠—Nuffin’.

Good Mr. Darwin once contended That Beetles were from Bees descended, And as my pictures show I think The Beet must be the missing link. The sugar‑beet and honey‑bee Supply the Beetle’s pedigree: The family is now complete— The Bee, the Beetle and the Beet.

The superficial naturalists have often been misled, By failing to discriminate between the tail and head: It really is unfortunate such carelessness prevails,

Because the Bunnies have their heads where Tunnies have their tails.

The Octopus or Cuttle‑fish! I’m sure that none of us would wish To have him scuttle ’round the house, Like Puss, when she espies a mouse:

The ant is known by his ant‑ennae, Where‑as the pheas‑ant hasn’t any, And that is why he wears instead, A small red cap upon his head:

Without his Fez, indeed the pheasant, Would be quite bald and quite un‑pleasant.

The Harrier, harassed by the Hare, Presents a picture of despair; Although as far as I’m concerned, I love to see the tables turned. The Harrier flies with all his might, It is a harum‑scare’m flight:

We have for many years been bored By that old saw about the sword And pen, and now we all rejoice, To see how Nature made her choice:

She made, regardless of offendin’, The Sword‑fish mightier than the Penguin.

The Gnu conspicuously wears His coat of gnumerous bristling hairs, While, as we see, the modest Newt Of such a coat is destitute.

I do not mind the Raven, though Maligned by Edgar Allan Poe: By his fun‑er‑ial array We recognize him from the Ray, Whose epiderm is white as snow, Not black as night, like Mr. Crow.

Though black, morose, and quite unshaven I’m sure we all prefer the Raven.

The Apes, from whom we are descended, Hang ape‑x down from trees suspended, And since we find them in the trees, We term them arbor‑ig‑i‑nes.

The Cowry seems to be, somehow, A sort of mouth‑piece for the Cow: A speaking likeness one might say, Which I’ve endeavored to portray.

If you will tap the Cantelope reposing on the ground It will not move, but just emit a melon‑choly sound

But if you try this method on the antlered antelope, His departure will convince you that he is a mis‑an‑thrope.

If you have read my former words, And learned to recognize the Birds, And how to tell them from the Flowers, And know these Analogues of ours, You never need be led astray By Darwin, Audobon, or Gray,

Whose writings, though considered classic, Savor some‑what of the Jurassic.

Your work though is but just begun, While mine, I’m glad to say, is done. To you the field I now leave clear, Upset my ink, and disappear!

… read my former words, And learned to recognize the Birds, And how to tell them from the Flowers, And know these Analogues of ours, You never need be led astray By Darwin, Audobon, or Gray, Whose writings, though considered classic, Savor some‑what of the Jurassic.

Your work though is but just begun, While mine, I’m glad to say, is done.

To you the field I now leave clear, Upset my ink, and disappear!

Your work though is but just begun, While mine, I’m glad to say, is done.

To you the field I now leave clear, Upset my ink, and disappear!