THE ROBIN. 55 



but sometimes engaging in prolonged and mortal 

 conflict with their own species. Although more 

 tolerant of cold than most birds of its size, the Red- 

 breast often succumbs during heavy snow, and there 

 must be few who have not gazed admiringly, and 

 yet regretfully, on the lifeless form of a dead Robin, 

 picked up on the snow, perhaps, or brought in by a 

 cat! 



Was it not Rogers who wrote this pretty epitaph 

 on a Robin Redbreast ? 



" Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said, 



When piping winds are hush'd around, 

 A small note wakes from underground, 



Where now his tiny bones are laid ; 

 No more in lone and leafless groves, 



With ruffled wings and faded breast, 

 His friendless, homeless spirit roves ; 



Gone to the world where birds are blest, 

 Where never cat glides o'er the green, 

 Or schoolboy's giant form is seen, 

 But love and gay and smiling spring 

 Inspire their little souls to sing." 



