Part 2 — AN EPITAPH[1] ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST.
Reading edition
AN EPITAPH[1] ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST.
Tread lightly here, for here, ’tis said, When piping winds are hush’d around, A small note wakes from underground, Where now his tiny bones are laid. No more in lone and leafless groves, With ruffled wing and faded breast, His friendless, homeless spirit roves; —Gone to the world where birds are blest! Where never cat glides o’er the green, Or school-boy’s giant form is seen; But Love, and Joy, and smiling Spring Inspire their little souls to sing!