110 OUR NATIVE BIRDS 
2. That farmer there says I steal berries and fruit; 
And for that against me he will enter his suit. 
Now his bushes and shrubs and many a tree 
I keep from great worms and big beetles free 
All the long springtime. Can’t he comprehend 
That I take only what is my due from the land? 
3. The robin, myself, the long-tailed thrush, 
We gladden his heart from twig, vine, and bush. 
His horses and cows surely eat oats and corn 
From almost the very first day they are born. 
Now, my dear old farmer, don’t fume and fret, 
You don’t pay us half the value you get. 
[Girl of ten to fourteen, entirely in dark slate-gray.] 
The Swallows 
1. Of air and breeze are children we, 
Like summer clouds so light, 
O’er brook and spring and meadow free 
We wind our graceful flight. 
2. From early morn till late at night 
You children laugh and play, 
We swallows rise with morning’s light 
And glide about all day. 
3. Pray, boys, do not throw ugly stones 
Into our cabin warm, 
Pray, to our shelves and clay-wrought cones 
Pray, boys, do us no harm. 
