Robin, American 



" 'Twas because my heart was true 

 To the North and spring-time new; 

 My mind's eye a nest could see 

 In yon old, forked apple-tree. '' 



Edith M. Thomas. 



(Note.) It is said that the robin does not sing during 

 its winter stay in the South. 



The Robin 



My old Welsh neighbor over the way 

 Crept slowly out in the sun of Spring, 



Pushed from her ears the locks of gray. 

 And hstened to hear the robin sing. 



Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped 

 And — cruel in sport, as boys will be — 



Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped 

 From bough to bough in the apple tree. 



''Nay,'' said the grandmother, ''have you not heard, 



My poor bad boy! of the fiery pit. 

 And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird 



Carries the water that quenches it? 



" He brings cool dew in his little bill, 



And lets it fall on the souls of sin; 

 You can see the mark on his red breast still 



Of fires that scorch as he drops it in. 



121 



