The great-armed trees where each may make his nest.
“And, since ye cannot spin nor sew, his care
Weaves the soft robes ye and your fledglings wear.
“How much he loves that doth so richly give!
Praise him, my little birds, all days ye live!
“So keep ye well from sin of thanklessness,
And God keep you, whom let all creatures bless!”
Bowed all the little birds their heads to earth,
Oped wide their bills, and sang with holy mirth
Their Deo gratias when St. Francis ceased,