THE PIGEONS. 



Under the big nursery table 

 Are Sue, Don, Harold, and Mabel, 

 All playing, with joy and delight. 

 That pigeons they are, dressed in white. 



Don't you hear their gentle " coo, coo " ? 

 Ah, now they fly out in full view ! 

 And over the meadow they go — 

 'Tis their own dear nursery, you know — 



Where, quick to the tops of the trees 

 They fly, with lightness and ease ; 

 There each birdie is glad to be 

 Perched high upon a big chair-tree. 



But to their home in swiftest flight 

 They haste, ere day has changed to night • 

 Then in they go, with cooing sweet, 

 And find their home a blest retreat. 



And now they tell just where they've been, 

 And all the wondrous sights they've seen. 

 Then with their " coo, coo," soft and low. 

 Each pigeon goes to sleep, I trow. 



— Emma G. Saulsbury. 



