Do you know when you wound any dear little bird,
Or take from its home-nest another,
That the cries of their anguish in heaven are heard,
That God pities those birds and their mother?
Do you know the same God made the birds and the boys,
And both for the very same reason,
That each life should be bright with its homes and its joys,
For each in its measure and season?
Do you know if you hark to the song in the air,