Because I can hop on the clover and hay,
Nor have to fly up in the trees, sir.”
“Sea-weed, poor creature! you’re left high and dry,
The tide has gone out; you are dying!”
“Ah, no, I am sure ’twill come back by and by.
I shall live, never fear; I’ll keep trying.”
“Song-sparrow, how can you sing all the day?”
“Sweet food to my young I am bringing,
And when I am working for them, in this way,
Of course I can never help singing.”