RED TOP AND TIMOTHY 181 



In themselves an orchestra ; 



Then a thousand throats 

 Set the woods a-laughing, 



While the saucy thing. 

 Anywhere on spike or spear, 



Sways himself to swing. 



Timothy and Red Top 



Will return again, 

 With familiar songs and flowers, 



Through the April rain ; 

 Though their giant foeman 



Will not let them be, 

 One who swings a keener scythe 



Cuts down such as he. 



LUCY LARCOM. 



