Where skies wear a balmier hue;
Away from the hand that had fed him,
From the love that was tender and true.
For a time all went well with the robin,
And he flitted about ’mong the trees;
Warbling his song from their branches,
As they swayed in the warm, southern breeze.
But at length, our little friend Robin
Grew weary of sunshine and heat,
“I’ll stay here no longer” said robin,