FEBRUARY, ‘“‘\THE LONG-SHORT MONTH” 325 
the birds and flowers of other places are better. Wait 
a few years and see. Wait until you have been so far 
away that you could not get home, or have been filled 
with dread that a day was near when there would be 
no home there. Then return, and stand under the sky 
at evening, and listen to the voice of the Song Sparrow 
down in the alders, and you will not only know that God 
is very near, but that He is very good, and a part of your 
home itself. 
THE SONG SPARROW 
There is a bird I know so well, 
It seems as if he must have sung 
Beside my crib when I was young; 
Before I knew the way to spell 
The name of even the smallest bird, 
His gentle, joyful song I heard. 
Now see if you can tell, my dear, 
What bird it is that every year, 
Sings ‘“Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.” 
He comes in March when winds are strong, 
And snow returns to hide the earth; 
But still he warms his heart with mirth, 
And waits for May. He lingers long 
While flowers fade; and every day 
Repeats his small contented lay, 
As if to say, we need not fear 
The season’s change, if love is here, 
With “Sweet-sweet-sweet, very merry cheer.” 
He does not wear a Joseph’s coat 
Of many colours, smart and gay: 
His suit is Quaker brown and gray, 
With darker patches at his throat. 
