THE BIRD'S NEST.

Two robins came in early Spring,—

When Winter's reign was o'er;

And every morn I heard them sing

Just by our cottage door.

They built their nest of moss and hay

Within a maple-tree,—

And thither every pleasant day,

I went to hear and see.

At first whene'er I came they flew,

Or eyed me in alarm;

But soon my step familiar grew,

I never did them harm.

One day a louder song I heard,

With eager cries for food;

And then I helped the mother-bird

To still her hungry brood.

I always seemed a welcome guest;

Both old and young I fed,

Then settling down beneath the nest,

Some pleasant book I read.

I watched them fondly day by day,

Until their wings were grown;

When suddenly they flew away,

And left me all alone.

The bitter tears began to start,

And full of sad regret

I wondered in my simple heart,

If birds could thus forget!

Ah! many summers have returned,

And many changes wrought,

Since I the mournful lesson learned,

In early childhood taught.

And many hopes have taken wings

On which my heart was set,—

And I have found that many things

As well as birds forget!