THE WREN'S NEST.

"Come, come, Mrs. Brownie," says young Mr. Wren,

"'T is time to be building our nest;.

For the winter has gone, the spring blossoms have come,

And the trees in green beauty are dressed,

Dressed, dressed,

And the trees in green beauty are dressed.

"O, where shall we build it, my dear little wife,

O, where shall we build it?" says he,

"In the sweet woodbine bower, in the rose by the door,

Or way up in the old apple-tree,

Tree, tree,

Or way up in the old apple-tree?"

"From woodbine," says Brownie, "my dear Mr. Wren,

The sparrows would drive us away,

In the rose by the door cats would eat us, I'm sure;

Let us build in the apple-tree, pray,

Pray, pray,

Let us build in the apple-tree, pray."

So away high up in the old apple-tree

Mr. Wren built Brownie a nest,

And't is there she sits now, in the white-blossomed bough,

With the baby birds under her breast,

Breast, breast,

With the baby birds under her breast.

—NELLIE M. GARABRANT.