328 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
The sparrow^s dwelling, which, hard by 
My father's house, in wet or dry, 
My sister Emmeline and I 
Together visited . 
She looked at it as if she feared it ; 
Still wishing, dreading, to be near it ; 
Such heart was in her, being then 
A little prattler among men. 
The blessing of my later years 
Was with me when a boy ; 
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; 
And humble cares, and delicate fears, 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears. 
And love, and thought, and joy. 
The sun has long been set : 
The stars are out by twos and threes ; 
The little birds are piping yet 
Among the bushes and the trees ; 
There^s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes ; 
And a noise of water that gushes ; 
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry 
Fills all the hollow of the sky ! 
Who would go " parading'^ 
In London, and " masquerading,'* 
