*HE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 287 
Oh ! ever be merry !— what do ye gain 
By murmuring, fretting, sighing ? 
Why ever strive to discover pain ? 
Why court the things of which ye complain ? 
Why on life's dark side be prying ? 
Cease, cease^ and be merry ! Oh come to me, 
E'en a bird shall teach ye reason ; 
Shall show ye how gaily and happily 
Poor robin can sing in a leafless tree, 
And love e'en the dreariest season. 
Then ever be merry, a lesson take now, 
That well ye may aye remember ; 
A contented heart, and a cloudless brow. 
Can light life's shadowy path with a glow, 
Like sunshine in dim November.* 
The robin builds a very warm nest, composed of 
dried leaves, intermixed with moss and hair, lined 
with the softest feathers. In some countries, it 
builds its nest in the crevices of mossy banks, or 
at the foot of a hawthorn in a hedgerow ; in others, 
* Romance of Nature. C. Tilt, Fleet-street. 
