I LOVE THE LITTLE ROBIN. 



43. 



The river-wave goes by 



In plaintive undertone ; 



The dark-branched pine doth groan ; 



I ' the gray old tower, on high 



Anon the lone owl cryeth 



For lonesome night ; soft sigheth 



The willow making moan ; 



In dying whisper dieili 



The sweet faint even-wind 



O'er the grave of ILosalind, 



So low, and still, and lone. 



I ' the churchyard melancholy, 

 Over the mouldering mould 

 The yew his daric leaf flingeth ; 

 Even with fingers cold 

 Sheds dew-cool doAVTi the wold ; 

 And the full moon rises slowly, 

 Slowly the heaven she wingeth 

 ' Mid cloudlets silver-lined ; 

 Like a sainted One she bringeth 

 Her light so calm and holy 

 Over the grave, where lowly 

 Lieth lost Rosalind. 



J. F. 



% g0vt m ?5ittU ^^obitt. 



I love the little Robin 



With its bosom cherry red, 



It brings sweet treasures to my heart 



And golden ikeaius long fled, 



It wakens scenes from childhood 



M ith all its lovely flowers. 



And peaceful joys so sweet and fair 



From those delightftil bowers. 



I love to hear its music 



In the woodlands far away. 



When the bonny hawthorn's blooming 



And buttercups are gay, 



\Vhen softly sings the linnet 



Within the sylvan shade, 



And green leaves flutter in the wind 



In nature's sweets arrayed. 



I love to see it peeping 

 From its nest beneath the hill. 

 Where the long wild grass is growing 

 Beside the woo<lland rill. 



Surrounded by sweet blossoms 

 That scent the passing gale, 

 Where its gentle mate is singing 

 It^s sweet but tender tale. 



I loved it in my childhood 

 AVhen it sung upon the wall. 

 Beside the nistic cottage door 

 Close by the waterfall, 

 Where oft my mother led me 

 And bade me Usten there, 

 lo sounds that fi lied my youthful heart 

 With pleasure sweet and fair. 



I've seen it in the spring time, 

 And I've listened to its song, 

 I've heard it in the winter's blast, 

 When nights were cold and long, 

 I've fed it at the window, 

 ^Vhen snow flakes spread the ground. 

 Anil I've listen'd to its music, 

 When all was still around. 



No. 25, King Cross Street, Haliliix. 



From Green Leaves and Sprigs of Heather. 



WILLI.\M HEATON. 



