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,