And harkened the robin's sweet song,
Full glad was her heart and thankful to God
That winter so quickly had gone.
The robin still sang and the dear little flower
Unfolded her petals of pink:—
"I'll hold up my chalice," she said, "for a shower
That from me my robin may drink."
The singer flew quickly to welcome his love,—
His love that was faltering low:—
Oh, where was the warmth from the heaven above?