With all that is lovely in beautiful June.
Sharp little twitters near by us we heard;
Where was the haunt of the dear little bird?
Soon the wee nest and its nestlings we found,
Safe in a catnip bush, close to the ground;
Home of the sparrow, whose chirruping brood
Kept their four yellow mouths open for food;
By their fond mother unceasingly fed
With morsels of strawberry, fragrant and red.
"O, Mamma," said Wodie, "did ever you see