For whom I hoard my little stock,—
What if I chirp him all alone
And leave mamma to feed the flock?
Thomas Hood.
——:o:——
O! ’TIS LOVE! ’TIS LOVE!
O! ’Tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love!
From woman’s bright eye glancing,
O! ’tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love!
Every heart entrancing.