THE SONG DIES AWAY 



sought my face with a look of deepest love. 

 It was almost as if he said: " Dearest one, 

 you are a great comfort to me! " 



He tried to sing and even to play, but all 

 in vain. An hour or so before he died he 

 gave a faint, pathetic little response to the 

 jingling of a pair of buckles; but the rest- 

 ing-time had come, and, with my hands 

 surrounding him, the favorite attitude of 

 his helpless babyhood, he died. 



Died of happiness, I suppose I may say, 

 and I could not have asked a better fate for 

 the sweet little pet who had brought sun- 

 shine and happiness into so many lives. 



I see him now as he perched one winter 

 day beside a worn-out artist who had come 

 to us to rest. The bird was singing one of 

 his sweetest, most plaintive, songs when 

 one of us spoke. 



" Oh, please don't," said the weary 

 woman. " Let m,e listen to that wonderful 

 231 



