LOST-THREE LITTLE ROBINS. Oh, where is the boy, dressed in jacket of gray, When he took from the nest My three little robins, and left me bereft. O wrens ! have you seen, in your travels to-day, And his feet were both bare. Ah me! he was cruel and mean, I declare., O butterfly! stop just one moment, I pray : And was small of his size. Ah! he must be wicked, and not very wise. O bees! with your bags of sweet nectarine, stay; Did he go through the town, Or go sneaking aroun' Through hedges and byways, with head hanging down? O boy with blue eyes, dressed in jacket of gray! you If will bring back my three robins to-day, I'll sing all day long My merriest song, And I will forgive you this terrible wrong. Bobolinks! did you see my birdies and me Unless he will bring My three robins back, to sleep under my wing? THE TERRIBLE SCARECROW AND ROBINS. The farmer looked at his cherry-tree, With thick buds clustered on every bough. "I wish I could cheat the robins," said he. "If somebody only would show me how! “I'll make a terrible scarecrow grim, With threatening arms and with bristling head; in the tree I'll fasten him, And up To frighten them half to death," he said. He fashioned a scarecrow all tattered and torn, Oh, 't was a horrible thing to see! And very early, one summer morn, The blossoms were white as the light sea-foam, But the scarecrow stood there so much at home But the robins, watching him day after day, "Why should this fellow our prospects blight? "He never moves round for the roughest weather, He's a harmless, comical, tough old fellow. Let's all go into the tree together, For he won't budge till the fruit is mellow!" So up they flew; and the sauciest pair 'Mid the shady branches peered and perked, Selected a spot with the utmost care, And all day merrily sang and worked. And where do you think they built their nest? By the time the cherries were ruby-red, Until the children were ready to fly, CELIA THAXTER. THE SONG SPARROW. A little gray bird with a speckled breast, He sits on a twig and singeth clear A song that overfloweth with cheer: "Love! Love! Love! Let us be happy, my love. Sing of cheer." Sweet and true are the notes of his song; True - and yet they are never sad, Serene with that peace that maketh glad: "Life! Life! Life! Oh, what a blessing is life; Of all the birds, I love thee best, Joy whose spring is deepest peace: "Joy! Life! Love! Oh, to love and live is joy, Joy and peace." MISS HARRIET E. PAINE: Bird Songs of New England. THE FIELD SPARROW. A bubble of music floats The slope of the hillside over A little wandering sparrow's notes On the bloom of yarrow and clover. And the smell of sweet-fern and the bayberry-leaf On his ripple of song are stealing; For he is a chartered thief, The wealth of the fields revealing. One syllable, clear and soft As a raindrop's silvery patter, He has but a word to say, And of that he will not be cheated. The singer I have not seen; But the song I arise and follow With the joy of a lowly heart's content This way would I also sing, My dear little hillside neighbor! A tender carol of peace to bring To the sunburnt fields of labor, Is better than making a loud ado. Trill on, amid clover and yarrow: There's a heart-beat echoing you, And blessing you, blithe little sparrow! LUCY LARCOM. THE SPARROW. Glad to see you, little bird; 'T was your little chirp I heard : What did you intend to say ? "Give me something this cold day?" |