15 
FRIENDS IN WINTER. 
THE SNOW-DKOP, CROCUS, AND ROBIN RED-BREAST. 
Hark, hark! with what a pretty throat 
Poor Robin Red-Breast tunes his note. 
John Lylie, 1553. 
Cold blew the wintry wind, as if it swept 
O’er frozen worlds, and caught their iciness: — 
The small birds, hopping ’mong the leafless twigs. 
Chirped cheerily as I around me flung 
Their wonted portion of my morning’s meal; 
And, leader of them all, the Robin, tame 
And free, came warbling and hopping on. 
Nearer and nearer yet; his bright black eye 
Looking askance upon the scattered food. 
And his tail frisking, as he skipped about. 
Singing his glad good-moiTow. 
I do love 
That learless bird — all the long winter through, 
’Midst snow, and frost, and bitter cold he came. 
Greeting me daily with his rich, sweet voice. 
Nor e’er went unremembered. 
E’en before 
The poet’s Nightingale, the Red-breast holds 
A place in my esteem,—for she seems coy. 
Distant, capricious—and commands you forth 
