70 ROBIN REDBREAST. No, poor Robin Redbreast; No fond mate nor little ones Wait for your return: Not till leafy summer comes But, though some have Some a sweeter song, gayer coats, You, friend Robin, stay with us All the winter long. Come, then, Robin Redbreast, Prythee do not fear; No rude boy is standing by, No sly pussy near. Come nearer to the window, friend, For safely you may come : There, eat your fill, and take, beside, A tiny morsel home. ON A SUNDAY MORNING. On a Sunday morning How pleasant 'tis to hear The church bells chiming merrily, So musical and clear. As I, musing, listen, Thus they seem to say— "Little Mary, come to church, Come to church to-day." Down the daisied meadow, Up the leafy lane, From each homestead gathered, Mary, too, is coming, With the rest to pray, Where the bells still tinkle 66 Come to church to-day." S. W. P. 1 |