“Come, Dickey, hop out, and stand up here by me;
    The rest of you stand on the branch of the tree;
    Don’t be frightened, my dears; there’s no danger at all,
    For mother will not let her dear birdies fall.

    “Now all spread your wings.  Ah! but that is too high;
    Just see how I do it.  Now, all again try! 
    Ah! that is much better.  Now try it once more. 
    Bravo! much better than ever before!

“Now flutter about, up and down, here and there: 
My dears, you’ll be flying before you’re aware. 
Now carefully drop from the tree to the ground;
There’s nothing to fear, for there’s grass all around.

“All starting but Robbie.  ‘Afraid you shall fall?’
Ah! don’t be a craven, be bravest of all. 
Now up and now down, now away to yon spire: 
Go on:  don’t be frightened:  fly higher and higher.”

* * * * *

“I’ve waited one hour, right here on the tree: 
Not one of my robins has come back to me. 
How soon they forget all the trouble they bring! 
Never mind:  I’ll fly up on the tree-top and sing.”

MRS. C. F. BERRY.

* * * * *

LOST—­THREE LITTLE ROBIN’S.

Oh, where is the boy, dressed in jacket of gray,
Who climbed up a tree in the orchard to-day,
And carried my three little birdies away? 
They hardly were dressed,
When he took from the nest
My three little robins, and left me bereft.

O wrens! have you seen, in your travels to-day,
A very small boy, dressed in jacket of gray,
Who carried my three little robins away? 
He had light-colored hair,
And his feet were both bare. 
Ah me! he was cruel and mean, I declare.

O butterfly! stop just one moment, I pray: 
Have you seen a boy dressed in jacket of gray,
Who carried my three little birdies away? 
He had pretty blue eyes,
And was small of his size. 
Ah! he must be wicked, and not very wise.

O bees! with your bags of sweet nectarine, stay;
Have you seen a boy dressed in jacket of gray,
And carrying three little birdies away? 
Did he go through the town,
Or go sneaking aroun’
Through hedges and byways, with head hanging down?

O boy with blue eyes, dressed in jacket of gray! 
If you will bring back my three robins to-day,
With sweetest of music the gift I’ll repay;
I’ll sing all day long
My merriest song,
And I will forgive you this terrible wrong.

Bobolinks! did you see my birdies and me—­
How happy we were on the old apple-tree? 
Until I was robbed of my young, as you see? 
Oh, how can I sing,
Unless he will bring
My three robins back, to sleep under my wing?

MRS. C. F. BERRY:  Songs for Our Darlings.

* * * * *