Come down, and we'll feast you on insects and seeds;—
You sha'nt have occasion to roam—
We'll give you all things that a bird ever needs,
To make it contented at home.
Then come, pretty Doves! O, return for our sakes,
And don't keep away from us thus;
Or, when your old slumbering master awakes,
'Twill be a sad moment for us!
"We can't!" said the birds, "and the basket may stand
A long time in waiting; for now