The Titmouse^ Nest. 



And spangled o'er, as with the intent 

 Of giving fitting ornament, 

 With silvery flakes of lichen bright. 

 That shine like opals, dazzling white. 

 Think only of'the creature small, ' 

 That wrought this soft and silvery ball. 

 Without a tool to aid her skill. 

 Nought but her little feet and bill — 

 Without a pattern whence to trace 

 This little roofed-in dwelling-place — 

 And does not in your bosom spring 

 Love for this skilful little thing ? 

 See, there's a window in the wall ; 

 Peep in, the house is not so small, 

 But snug and cosy you shall see 

 A very numerous family ! 

 Now count them : one", two, three, four, five- 

 Nay, sixteen merry things alive — 

 Sixteen young, chirping things all sit. 

 Where you, your wee hand, could not get ! 

 I'm glad you've seen it, for you never 

 Saw ought before so soft and clever. 



