-42- 



It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 



'Twill soon be Winter now. 

 Robin, Robin Redbreast, 



O, Robin, dear! 

 And what will this poor Robin do? 



For pinching days are near. 



The fireside for the cricket. 



The wheat stack for the mouse, 

 When trembling night winds whistle 



And moan all 'round the house, 

 The frosty ways, like iron. 



The branches plumed with snow,— 

 Alas ! In winter dead and dark. 



Where can poor Robin go ? 

 Robin, Robin Redbreast, 



O, Robin, dear! 

 And a crumb of bread for Robin, 

 His little heart to cheer. 

 NOTE-The Old World Robin here referred to is quite different 

 in appearance and habits from the American Robm. It is only 

 about half the size of the latter. Its prevailing color above .s ohve 

 .reen, while the forehead, cheeUs, throat and bre-t -e a hgh 

 ;ellov;ish red. It does not migrate, but .s f '^^f^^f J^^f^f^ 

 throughout temperate Europe, Asia Minor, and northern Africa. 



Editor. 



