TOO LOW.

“My house is thatched with violet leaves

And paved with daisies fine,

Scarlet berries droop over its eaves,

Tall grasses round it shine;

With softest down I have lined my nest,

Securely now will I sit and rest.

“When their wings break from their silvery shell,

Touched by my tender care,

Here shall my little ones safely dwell,

Little ones soft and fair;

Some summer morn they shall try their wings

While their father sits by my side and sings.”

Hard by, just over the streamlet's edge

A great rock towered in might,

High up, half hidden in moss and sedge,

Were safe little nooks and bright;

Ah well for the bird with her tender breast,

Had she flown to the rock to build her nest!

Poor bird, she built her nest too low;

Alas! for the bird, alas!

That she chose that spot to her woe

In the low dewy grass;

For the reaper came with his gleaming blade.

Alas for love in the violet shade!