THE FLIGHT OF THE ROBIN.
A dear little maid, one autumn day
Stood under a maple, bright and gay,
Looking up at a robin—with wings outspread,
While in pleading tones these words she said:—
“Are you going away little robin?
Your wings are all plumed for a flight.
Would you leave me alone little robin?
Is it thus all my care you requite?”
“I’ve loved you and fed you, dear robin,
For many and many a day;
Now when I most need you, dear robin,
You’re ready to fly far away.”
“’Tis true that cold winter is coming
And the leaves will be gone from the tree;
But I have a warm heart dear robin,
Its love shall thy safe shelter be.”
“I’ll give thee a nook in the window
Where roses and hyacinths bloom.
I need your sweet song, my dear robin,
To drive away sadness and gloom.”
“I’ll feed you, my dear little robin,
With crumbs from my table each day.
You shall never know want, little robin,
If only with me you will stay.”
But Robin was deaf to her pleading,
For love will not always prevail;
Her prayers and entreaties unheeding,
He flew from the snow and the hail.
Away to the south flew the robin,
Where skies wear a balmier hue;
Away from the hand that had fed him,
From the love that was tender and true.
For a time all went well with the robin,
And he flitted about ’mong the trees;
Warbling his song from their branches,
As they swayed in the warm, southern breeze.
But at length, our little friend Robin
Grew weary of sunshine and heat,
“I’ll stay here no longer” said robin,
“But will find me a cooler retreat.”
Then the heart of the poor little robin
Grew sad, as he thought of the day
When he turned from the dear little maiden,
And his nest in the maple so gay.
“I’ll go back to her home” said the robin;
“Perchance she will bid me to stay.
She was always a kind friend to robin.
Oh, why was I tempted to stray?”
When spring spread her beautiful mantle
O’er hillside, and valley, and plain,
The maiden oft wondered if Robin
Would come back to the maple again.
One morn as she threw up the casement
To let in the balmy spring air,
In flew her own dear little robin
And perched on the back of her chair.
“Take me back to your love,” said the robin,
“I’ll wander no more from your side,
But through winter as well as in summer,
I’ll evermore with you abide.”
O, is it not thus that the children
Full oft leave the dear old home nest,
To find that though skies may be fairer,
The old love and home are the best?
And thus do we oft in our blindness,
Unheeding the voices within,
Stray away from the Infinite kindness
To roam in the by-paths of sin.
But at length we grow weary of straying
For the pleasures of sin always pall.
And a voice to our spirits is saying,
“Let the evil no longer enthrall.”
And when like the prodigal son,
We turn from our wanderings wild,
We find that the Infinite Father,
Has never forsaken his child.