“Well,” cried he, “Emperor, by God’s grace
      We’ve got you Ratisbon! 
    The Marshal’s in the market-place,
      And you’ll be there anon
    To see your flag-bird flap his vans
      Where I, to heart’s desire,
    Perched him!” The chief’s eye flashed; his plans
      Soared up again like fire.

    The chief’s eye flashed; but presently
      Softened itself, as sheathes
    A film the mother-eagle’s eye
      When her bruised eaglet breathes;
   “You’re wounded!” “Nay,” the soldier’s pride
      Touched to the quick, he said: 
   “I’m killed, Sire!” And his chief beside,
      Smiling the boy fell dead.

ROBERT BROWNING.

 ROBERT OF LINCOLN.

“Robert of Lincoln,” by William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878), is one of the finest bird poems ever written.  It finds a place here because I have seen it used effectively as a memory gem in the Cook County Normal
 School (Colonel Parker’s school), year after year, and because my own pupils invariably like to commit it to memory.  With the child of six to the student of twenty years it stands a source of delight.

    Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
      Near to the nest of his little dame,
    Over the mountain-side or mead,
      Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. 
          Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
          Spink, spank, spink,
    Snug and safe is this nest of ours,
    Hidden among the summer flowers. 
          Chee, chee, chee.

    Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
      Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat;
    White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
      Hear him call in his merry note,
          Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
          Spink, spank, spink,
    Look what a nice, new coat is mine;
    Sure there was never a bird so fine. 
          Chee, chee, chee.

    Robert of Lincoln’s Quaker wife,
      Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
    Passing at home a patient life,
      Broods in the grass while her husband sings,
          Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
          Spink, spank, spink,
    Brood, kind creature, you need not fear
    Thieves and robbers while I am here. 
          Chee, chee, chee.

    Modest and shy as a nun is she;
      One weak chirp is her only note;
    Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he,
      Pouring boasts from his little throat,
          Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
          Spink, spank, spink,
    Never was I afraid of man,
    Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. 
          Chee, chee, chee.

    Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
      Flecked with purple, a pretty sight: 
    There as the mother sits all day,
      Robert is singing with all his might,
          Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
          Spink, spank, spink,
    Nice good wife that never goes out,
    Keeping house while I frolic about. 
          Chee, chee, chee.