[Anything rather premature may be illustrated by the following:]
A spring bird that had taken time by the forelock flew across the lawn near
this city one day last week. His probable fate is best described in this
pathetic verse, author unknown:
"The first bird of spring
Essayed for to sing;
But ere he had uttered a note
He fell from the limb,
A dead bird was him,
The music had friz in his throat."