Rollicking Robin is here again. 
    What does he care for the April rain? 
    Care for it?  Glad of it.  Doesn’t he know
    That the April rain carries off the snow,
    And coaxes out leaves to shadow his nest,
    And washes his pretty red Easter vest,
    And makes the juice of the cherry sweet,
    For his hungry little robins to eat? 
      “Ha! ha! ha!” hear the jolly bird laugh. 
      “That isn’t the best of the story, by half!”

    Gentleman Robin, he walks up and down,
    Dressed in orange-tawney and black and brown. 
    Though his eye is so proud and his step so firm,
    He can always stoop to pick up a worm. 
    With a twist of his head, and a strut and a hop,
    To his Robin-wife, in the peach-tree top,
    Chirping her heart out, he calls:  “My dear
    You don’t earn your living!  Come here!  Come here! 
      Ha! ha! ha!  Life is lovely and sweet;
      But what would it be if we’d nothing to eat?”

    Robin, Sir Robin, gay, red-vested knight,
    Now you have come to us, summer’s in sight. 
    You never dream of the wonders you bring,—­
    Visions that follow the flash of your wing. 
    How all the beautiful By-and-by
    Around you and after you seems to fly! 
    Sing on, or eat on, as pleases your mind! 
    Well have you earned every morsel you find. 
      “Aye!  Ha! ha! ha!” whistles robin.  “My dear,
      Let us all take our own choice of good cheer!”

LUCY LARCOM.

* * * * *

THE DEAR OLD ROBINS.

There’s a call upon the housetop, an answer from the plain,
There’s a warble in the sunshine, a twitter in the rain. 
And through my heart, at sound of these,
There comes a nameless thrill,
As sweet as odor to the rose,
Or verdure to the hill;
And all the joyous mornings
My heart pours forth this strain: 
“God bless the dear old robins
Who have come back again.”

For they bring a thought of summer, of dreamy, precious days,
Of king-cups in the summer, making a golden haze;
A longing for the clover blooms,
For roses all aglow,
For fragrant blossoms where the bees
With droning murmurs go;
I dream of all the beauties
Of summer’s golden reign,
And sing:  “God keep the robins
Who have come back again.”

ANON.

* * * * *

ROBINS QUIT THE NEST.

“Now, robins, my darlings, I think it is best,”
Said old mother bird, “that you all quit the nest. 
You’ve grown very plump, and the nest is so small
That really there isn’t quite room for you all.

    “The day is so fair and the sun is so bright,
    I think I can teach you to fly before night: 
    And, when you have learned, you can go where you please,
    As high as the gable,—­yes! high as the trees.