Our First Birds. 115 



nothing husband looked on with the utmost indif- 

 ference. The eggs and nest were, after a day or two, 

 utterly left and deserted, and all was mute and blank 

 despair. As she sat upon her perch beside her rifled 

 home, she seemed to ask as many another bereaved 

 parent has done — 



" How can you bid this heart be blithe. 



When blithe this heart can never be ? 

 I've lost the jewel from my crown — 



Look round our circle, and you'll see 

 That there is ane out o' the ring 



Who never can forgotten be. 

 Ay, there's a blank at my right hand. 



That ne'er can be made up to me. 



" 'Tis said, as water wears the rock. 



That time wears out the deepest line ; 

 It may be true wi' hearts enow, 



But never can apply to mine. 

 For I have learned to know and feel 



(Though losses should forgotten be) 

 That still the blank at my right hand 



Can never be made up to me. 



" I blame not Providence's sway, 



For I have many joys beside ; 

 And fain would I in grateful way 



Enjoy the same, whate'er betide. 

 A mortal thing should ne'er repine. 



But stoop to God's supreme decree ! 

 Yet oh ! the blank at my right hand ' 



Can never be made up to me ! " 



This was a very untoward and unlooked-for disaster, 

 but as it was clear there was no use in crying over spilt 

 milk or dwelling upon it in melancholy inactivity, after 

 a few days poor little Blanche set to work again as 



