Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food,
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood;
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow, like me.
Chee, chee, chee."
Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air;
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nobody knows, but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee."
Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows,
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
OBINS in the tree-top,
Blossoms in the grass,
Green things a-growing
Everywhere you pass;
Sudden little breezes,
Showers of silver dew,
Black bough and bent twig
Budding out anew;
Pine-tree and willow-tree,
Fringéd elm, and larch, Don't you think that May-time's Pleasanter than March?
Chestnuts in the ashes
Bursting through the rind;
Red leaf and gold leaf
Rustling down the wind;
Mother "doin' peaches"
All the afternoon,
Don't you think that autumn's
Pleasanter than June?
Little fairy snow-flakes
Dancing in the flue;
Old Mr. Santa Claus,
What is keeping you?
Twilight and firelight
Shadows come and go;
Merry chime of sleigh-bells
Tinkling through the snow;
Mother knitting stockings
(Pussy's got the ball), —
Don't you think that winter's
Pleasanter than all?
Thou art Nature's Punchinello!
Full of fun as Puck could be,
Harlequin might learn of thee!
Look now at his odd grimaces!
Saw you ever such queer faces?
Now like learned judge sedate,
Now with nonsense in his pate.
Look now at him! gently peep!
He pretends to be asleep, –
Fast asleep upon his bed,
With his arm beneath his head.
Now that posture is not right,
And he is not settled quite;
There! that's better than before,
And the knave pretends to snore.
Ha! he is not half asleep;
See, he slyly takes a peep!
Monkey, though your eyes were shut,
You could see this little nut.
You shall have it, pigmy brother!
What! another? and another?
Nay, your cheeks are like a sack;
Sit down, and begin to crack.
THE PIGEON HOUSE.
OOK! here's a pretty pigeon house!
In every narrow cell
A pigeon with his little wife
And family may dwell.
Their beds are only made of straw,
The rooms are dark and small;
But many though the pigeons be,
There's room enough for all.
Because they don't dispute and fret
For every little thing,
But live in love and gentleness,
At home and on the wing.
How soft and low their cooing sounds,
As each one says "Good-night!"
How cheerful when at early morn
They dress their feathers white.
Then far into the woods and fields,
To seek their food they fly,
Returning to their house betimes,
When sunset gilds the sky.
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