Could never pour from out his throat, nor rank to him belong. 



Then "Hoot-to-hoot!" the judge exclaimed, "'tis shocking this to see, 



A bird so hampered by his tongue, a slave he needs must be — 



And to the lark, I do present our sad young friend in gray, 



To be her slave, and do her work, that she may sing and play." 



Sad was the life of that gray bird, but sweet the heart within ; 



He loved the lark, and kept her songs his own small head within. 



And while he gathered worms for tea, or bugs for breakfast store, 



He sang the songs o'er in his heart, and thought them o'er and o'er. 



But one bright day the lark fell ill, when past her cozy nest 



A robin flew ; he'd wandered far ; ripe cherries was his quest. 



And in his beak he held a twig, with red fruit covered o'er, 



'Twas then the lark called, "O friend, I thee implore 



"Give me thy fruit, my throat is dry, I'll give to thee my slave 



For your rich bite — for I am ill — perhaps my life 'twill save." 



Then "Cheer-up, Cheer-up !" said robin bold, "the cherries are your own. 



While I've your faithful slave I'm sure I'll not my fruit bemoan." 



Then plain gray bird worked long and well, this master to obey ; 



He gathered grubs, fetched many sticks, and toiled the live long day. 



But robin's song, "Cheer-up Cheer-up," so eased his mind of care 



That work seemed light ; he learned the song, and never knew despair. 



Though hard his lot, with heart of song he felt his burden light. 



His head was full of melody that cheered him day and night. 



So faithful he, so sweet and kind, so true to duties plain. 



That he was sold to jay-bird, then to the wren again. 



The cuckoo bought him, then the crow, first one and then another ; 



He worked for each new master, 'till sold unto a brother. 



While as he worked, he kept his heart free from the sin of pride, 



And went on learnng, 'till his head held all that it could hide. 



And so one day kind Providence, though seeming most unkind — 



Took things in hand, when sparrow-hawk his work to him resigned. 



He did his best, though sparrow-hawk was very hard to please. 



He beat him, and he pecked his head in every way, to tease. 



Until at last he thought him dead, and left him there forlorn, 



Not knowing that his cruel act, the slave's life would adorn. 



With feeble cry the weak, gray bird, his bruises to endure, 



Crept to a stream to quench his thirst, with water cold and pure. 



And as it trickeled down his throat, his ever grateful heart, 



To his Creator rose, to give the thanks it would impart. 



When lo ! a burst of melody, surprised his wondering ear ; 



'Twas such a song as none on earth before that day could hear. 



And then it was revealed to him, he held the gift of song ; 



Old sparrow-hawk had loosed his tongue, nor could he e'er belong 



To any bird, for he could sing. Oh happy was the day 



That all the woodland echoed back, that first sweet roundelay! 



But when the birds, sparrow and all, his worth did realize, 



Each wished him for his own, all coveted the prize. 



While sparrow-hawk cried "He is mine and I will have my own !" 



The owl arose with dignity, his mandate to make known. 



"My friends of feathers, may I state as I have done before 



That one who sings belongs to none, he is a slave no more. 



One who surpasses all his kind in patience, heart and skill. 



Should be our king instead of slave, and we should do his will. 



Henceforth to show our deep respect and love, all in a word, 



We'll hold our tongues whene'er we hear, the voice of Mockingbird." 



— Edith Drury Lemington. 



