ROBERT OF LINCOLN. 115 THE OAK. THE oak for grandeur, strength, and noble size, From acorn small that trunk, those branches rise, From noon-tide sun, or from the drenching rain; ROBERT OF LINCOLN. MERRILY Swinging on briar and weed, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: Spink, spank, spink; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Robert of Lincoln is gaily drest, Wearing a bright black wedding-coat; White are hls shoulders, and white his crest; Hear him call in his merry note, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Robert of Lincoln's quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings, Brood, kind creature, you need not fear Modest and shy as a nun is she; Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Robert is singing with all his might,— Soon as the little ones chip the shell, 117 COME HERE, LITTLE ROBIN. Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, Gathering seeds for the hungry brood. This new life is likely to be Hard for a young fellow like me. Robert of Lincoln at length is made Sober with work, and silent with care; Oft in his holiday garment laid Half forgotten that merry air,Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Summer wanes, the children are grown: W. C. BRYANT. COME HERE, LITTLE ROBIN. COME here, little Robin, and do n't be afraid, Come here, little Robin, and pick up some bread, I don't mean to hurt you, you poor little thing, And pussy-cat is not behind me; So hop about pretty, and put down your wing, And pick up the crumbs, and do n't mind me! Cold winter is come, but it will not last long, THE CHILD'S WISH IN JUNE. MOTHER, mother, the winds are at play, And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes. 1 TABLE RULES. And he sits and twitters a gentle note, You bid me be busy; but mother, hear I wish, oh, I wish I was yonder cloud, And I'd come and float, dear mother, o'er thee. 119 MRS. GILMAN. TABLE RULES FOR LITTLE FOLK IN silence I must take my seat, And give God thanks before I eat; |