"Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr ! "I would not rob a bird," "It is very cruel, too," How sad the bird would feel?" A little boy hung down his head, He didn't like to tell his name. -L. Maria Child. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. MERRILY Swinging on briar and weed, Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Snug and safe is this nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers. Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed, Spink, spank, spink, Look what a nice, new coat is mine; Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Brood, kind creature, you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Modest and shy as a nun is she; Spink, spank, spink, Never was I afraid of man, Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. Chee, chee, chee. Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Flecked with purple, a pretty sight: There as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might, Spink, spank, spink, Nice good wife that never goes out, Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Spink, spank, spink, This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work, and silent with care, Off is his holiday garment laid, Half forgotten that merry air Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Nobody knows, but my mate and I, Summer wanes; the children are grown; Spink, spank, spink, When you can pipe that merry old strain, Chee, chee, chee. William Cullen Bryant. THE BLUEBIRD. I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing, Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat ! "Dear little blossoms down under the snow, You must be weary of winter, I know ; "Little white snow-drop! I pray you arise Bright yellow crocus ! come open your eyes; Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, LITTLE dun cow to the apple-tree tied. I that am milking you, sit by your side, |