Employing my earliest breath,
To wake them with song, it could be their intent
To pay me with arrows and death!
Fear that my nestlings would feel them forgot,
Helped me a moment to fly;
Else I had given up life on the spot,
Under my murderer's eye.
Yet, I can never brood o'er you again,
Closing you under my breast!
Its coldness would chill you; my blood would but stain