160 MARCH 



" Return, my brothers," she said again. 

 All were weeping in the wigwam. 

 They said, " Wenonah is dead." 

 But the birds knew better. 



LITTLE BIRD BLUE 



Little Bird Blue, come sing us your song ; 

 The cold winter weather has lasted so long, 

 We're tired of skates, and we're tired of sleds, 

 We're tired of snowbanks as high as our heads ; 



Now we're watching for you, 



Little Bird Blue. 



Soon as you sing, then the springtime will come, 

 The robins will call and the honey-bees hum, 

 And the dear little pussies, so cunning and gray, 

 Will sit in the willow trees over the way ; 



So hurry, please do, 



Little Bird Blue ! 



We're longing to hunt in the woods, for we know 

 Just where the spring beauties and liverwort 

 grow; 



