And where do you think they built their nest?
In the scarecrow's pocket, if you please,
That, half-concealed on his ragged breast,
Made a charming covert of safety and ease!
By the time the cherries were ruby-red,
A thriving family hungry and brisk,
The whole long day on the ripe food fed.
'Twas so convenient! they saw no risk!
Until the children were ready to fly,
All undisturbed they lived in the tree;
For nobody thought to look at the guy
For a robin's flourishing family!
Celia Thaxter.
THE SONG SPARROW.
A little gray bird with a speckled breast,
Under my window has built his nest;
He sits on at twig and singeth clear
A song that overfloweth with cheer:
"Love! Love! Love!
Let us be happy, my love.
Sing of cheer."
Sweet and true are the notes of his song;
Sweet—and yet always full and strong,
True—and yet they are never sad,
Serene with that peace that maketh glad:
"Life! Life! Life!
Oh, what a blessing is life;
Life is glad!"
Of all the birds, I love thee best,
Dear Sparrow, singing of joy and rest;
Rest—but life and hope increase,
Joy—whose spring is deepest peace:
"Joy! Life! Love!
Oh, to love and live is joy,—
Joy and peace."