A LITTLE BIRD
A little bird of varied hue
One day within my casement fiery;
Its carol was now grave, now gay,—
But ofttime harsh, I grieve to say.
Unheeding aught of right or wrong,
I, breathless, harkened to its song,
And gathered crumbs and bade it stay,
So much I revelled in its lay!
One day within my casement fiery;
Its carol was now grave, now gay,—
But ofttime harsh, I grieve to say.
Unheeding aught of right or wrong,
I, breathless, harkened to its song,
And gathered crumbs and bade it stay,
So much I revelled in its lay!
And yet it chanced this little bird
Some unkind thoughts within me stirred;
Its sorry song I'd voice again,
I cared not how, nor cared I when!
All that it warbled grew and grew,
Discordant with its tale of rue;
Until, when dusk was shutting down,
I watched it fly away to town.
Some unkind thoughts within me stirred;
Its sorry song I'd voice again,
I cared not how, nor cared I when!
All that it warbled grew and grew,
Discordant with its tale of rue;
Until, when dusk was shutting down,
I watched it fly away to town.
A little bird! If it should fly
Into thy home nest, by and by,
I do entreat thee have a care,—
Of all its songs shouldst thou beware!
Be sure when it again has flown
That thou thine idle words atone;
Its name, perchance, thou canst divine,
Else, vainly writ this song of mine.
Into thy home nest, by and by,
I do entreat thee have a care,—
Of all its songs shouldst thou beware!
Be sure when it again has flown
That thou thine idle words atone;
Its name, perchance, thou canst divine,
Else, vainly writ this song of mine.
AND YET
A little cross,—and yet,
Through shadowed days,
On tired shoulders laid
Too much it weighs.
Through shadowed days,
On tired shoulders laid
Too much it weighs.
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