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Up, up with thy praise-breathing anthem ! alone The drowsy-head; man, on his bed slumbers prone ; The stars may go down, and the sun from the deep Burst forth, still his hands they are folded in sleep. Let the least in creation the greatest despiseThen up to heaven's threshold, blithe Skylark,
THE BIRD'S NEST.
All blind and unfledged, see the children of song, Just broke from their egg-shell, and herding
together ; To the red-breasted minstrel the strangers be
longTo robin, the herald of winterly weather.
Wide and distant she travels to look out for food, Her piercing eye darting on this, that, and
ť other; On the spread-wings of fondness returns to her
brood, Sweeet robin, their guardian, protector, and
0, let no rude hand, while that mother 's away, Either take or destroy the beloved ones she's
feeding! And gratitude's carol will joyful repay The heart that could not set their parent's a
The time is near come when their clothes will
appear, And then, tho' the world and its creatures may
slight ye, The notes of the nestlings may break on the ear, And the song of young robin be heard to de
TO A ROBIN.
COME, sweetest of the feather'd throng!
No prowling cat, with whisker'd face,
BIRD of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-placeO, to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay, and loud,
For, in the downy cloud,
Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamers that herald the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away.
Then when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-placeO to abide in the desert with thee!
O BLITHE new-comer! I have heard
I hear thee and rejoice ;
Or but a wandering voice?
While I am lying on the grass,
The twofold shout I hear, That seems to fill the whole air's space,
As loud far off as near.
Though babbling only to the vale,
Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.