Volume 13 — ROBIN'S RETURN.
Reading edition
By Edith M. Thomas.
Robin on the tilting bough, Red-breast rover, tell me how You the weary time have passed Since we saw and heard you last.
"In a green and pleasant land, By a summer sea-breeze fanned, Orange-trees with fruit are bent; There the weary time I've spent."
Robin rover, there, no doubt, Your best music you poured out; Piping to a stranger's ear, You forgot your lovers here.
"Little lady, on my word, You do wrong a true-heart bird! Not one ditty would I sing, 'Mong the leaves or on the wing, In the sun or in the rain; Stranger's ear would list in vain. If I ever tried a note, Something rose within my throat.
'Twas because my heart was true To the North and spring-time new;
My mind's eye a nest could see In yon old, forked apple-tree!"
(NOTE.—It is said that the robin does not sing during its winter stay in the South.)