

The Hirdie’s Song. 








Anon. 
S I came o’er the distant hills, 
I heard a wee bird sing: 
*O pleasant are the primrose buds 
In the perfumed breath of spring! 
And pleasant are the mossy banks, 
Beneath the birchen bowers,— 
But a home wherein no children play, 
Is a garden shorn of flowers !” 


And once again [ heard the bird, 

His song was loud and clear : 


“ How glorious are the leafy woods 


In the summer of the year! 


All clothed in green, the lovely boughs 


Spread wide o’er land and lea,— 

But the home wherein no son is born, 

{?? 

Is a land without a tree 
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