Its rural anthem; and for this Jane gave
The brown-bread crumbs, she’d made a rule to save.
So came the pretty robin-redbreast, too,—
(Oh! that the world was half so good and true,)
She from the leaded window-sill would pick
With birdlike aptitude—so wondrous quick—
The frugal fragments of Jane’s surplus store;
Haste to her offspring, and return for more:
Sometimes the pretty creature chirp’d in vain,
But not when Jane could spare a crumb or grain.