 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
14
THE BIRD'S-NEST.
Now the sun rises bright and soars high in the air,
The hedge-rows in blossoms are drest;
The sweet little birds to the meadows repair,
And pick up the moss and the lambs' wool and hair,
To weave each her beautiful nest.
The hedge-rows in blossoms are drest;
The sweet little birds to the meadows repair,
And pick up the moss and the lambs' wool and hair,
To weave each her beautiful nest.
High up in some tree, far away from the town,
Where they think naughty boys cannot creep,
They build it with twigs, and they line it with down,
And lay their neat eggs, speckled over with brown,
And sit till the little ones peep.
Where they think naughty boys cannot creep,
They build it with twigs, and they line it with down,
And lay their neat eggs, speckled over with brown,
And sit till the little ones peep.
17
Then sleep, little innocents, sleep in your nest,
To steal you I know would be wrong;
And when the next summer in green shall be dress'd,
And your merry music shall join with the rest,
You'll pay us for all with a song.
To steal you I know would be wrong;
And when the next summer in green shall be dress'd,
And your merry music shall join with the rest,
You'll pay us for all with a song.
Away to the woodlands we'll merrily hie,
And sit by yon very tall tree;
And rejoice, as we hear your sweet carols on high,
With silken wings soaring amid the blue sky,
That we left you to sing and be free.
And sit by yon very tall tree;
And rejoice, as we hear your sweet carols on high,
With silken wings soaring amid the blue sky,
That we left you to sing and be free.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |