V.
I know—for but yesterday I was your guest—
How many young robins there are in your nest;
And pardon me, sir, if I venture to say,
They've had not a morsel of dinner to-day.
VI.
But you look very sad, pretty robin, I see,
As you glance o'er the meadow, to yonder green tree;
I fear I have thoughtlessly given you pain,
And I will not prattle so lightly again.
VII.
Go home, where your mate and your little ones dwell;
Though I know where they are, yet I never will tell;
Nobody shall injure that leaf-covered nest,
For sacred to me is the place of your rest.
VIII.
Adieu! for you want to be flying away,
And it would be cruel to ask you to stay;
But come in the morning, come early, and sing,
For dearly I love you, sweet warbler of spring.