THE TERRIBLE SCARECROW AND ROBINS.

The farmer looked at his cherry-tree,
With thick buds clustered on every bough. 
“I wish I could cheat the robins,” said he. 
“If somebody only would show me how!

      “I’ll make a terrible scarecrow grim,
      With threatening arms and with bristling head;
    And up in the tree I’ll fasten him,
      To frighten them half to death,” he said.

    He fashioned a scarecrow all tattered and torn,—­
      Oh, ’twas a horrible thing to see! 
    And very early, one summer morn,
      He set it up in his cherry-tree.

    The blossoms were white as the light sea-foam,
      The beautiful tree was a lovely sight;
    But the scarecrow stood there so much at home
      That the birds flew screaming away in fright.

    But the robins, watching him day after day,
      With heads on one side and eyes so bright,
    Surveying the monster, began to say,
      “Why should this fellow our prospects blight?

    “He never moves round for the roughest weather,
      He’s a harmless, comical, tough old fellow. 
    Let’s all go into the tree together,
      For he won’t budge till the fruit is mellow!”

    So up they flew; and the sauciest pair
      ’Mid the shady branches peered and perked,
    Selected a spot with the utmost care,
      And all day merrily sang and worked.

    And where do you think they built their nest? 
      In the scarecrow’s pocket, if you please,
    That, half-concealed on his ragged breast,
      Made a charming covert of safety and ease!

    By the time the cherries were ruby-red,
      A thriving family hungry and brisk,
    The whole long day on the ripe food fed. 
      ’Twas so convenient! they saw no risk!

    Until the children were ready to fly,
      All undisturbed they lived in the tree;
    For nobody thought to look at the guy
      For a robin’s flourishing family!

CELIA THAXTER.

* * * * *

THE SONG SPARROW.

    A little gray bird with a speckled breast,
    Under my window has built his nest;
    He sits on at twig and singeth clear
    A song that overfloweth with cheer: 
        “Love!  Love!  Love! 
        Let us be happy, my love. 
                    Sing of cheer.”

    Sweet and true are the notes of his song;
    Sweet—­and yet always full and strong,
    True—­and yet they are never sad,
    Serene with that peace that maketh glad: 
        “Life!  Life!  Life! 
        Oh, what a blessing is life;
                    Life is glad!”

    Of all the birds, I love thee best,
    Dear Sparrow, singing of joy and rest;
    Rest—­but life and hope increase,
    Joy—­whose spring is deepest peace: 
        “Joy!  Life!  Love! 
        Oh, to love and live is joy,—­
                    Joy and peace.”