“Last year, he flew away, one day,
And then, the scene we had! the way
We wept for him; and search’d the town!
And how it made the neighbors frown
The twentieth time we ask’d for him!
But, just as day was growing dim,
He lit on yonder ash-tree limb;
And ‘Dick,’ I call’d, and back he flew;
Now, didn’t you, birdie?—naughty you!”
With this again she laugh’d at him;