Robin, American 



But if the tree and the robin don't peep, 

 I'll try my best the secret to keep; 

 Though I know when the little birds fly about, 

 Then the whole secret will be out. 



SELECTED. 



The Robin 



In the tall elm-tree sat the robin bright, 



Through the rainy April day, 

 And he carolled clear with a pure delight, 



In the face of the sky so gray. 

 And the silver rain through the blossoms dropped, 



And fell on the robin's coat 

 And his brave red breast, but he never stopped 



Piping his cheerful note. 



For, oh, the fields were green and glad, 



And the blissful life that stirred 

 On the earth's wide breast, was full and warm 



In the heart of the little bird. 

 The rain-cloud lifted, the sunset light 



Streamed wide over valley and hill; 

 As the plains of heaven the land grew bright, 



And the warm south wind was still. 



Then loud and clear called the happy bird, 



And rapturously he sang, 

 Till wood and meadow and river side 



With jubilant echoes rang. 

 But the sun dropped down in the quiet west, 



And he hushed his song at last; 

 All nature softly sank to rest, 



And the April day had passed. CELIA THAXTER. 



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