Like some of your fine-tongued birdies;
I don’t think everything’s ruined and lost
When the wind mutters threatening wordies.
“I don’t care!” he chirped; “I don’t care! I don’t care!
It might be a great deal colder:
But I’m a fellow that knows no fear—
Old winter but makes me bolder!”
Ah, plain little hardy brown-coat bird!
Through life I’ll try to remember
To meet its winters with cheerful word,