"Little bird! little bird! come to me!
I have a green cage ready for thee—
Beauty bright flowers I'll bring thee anew,
And fresh, ripe cherries, all wet with dew."
"Thanks, little maiden, for all thy care,—
But I love dearly the clear, cool air,
And my snug little nest in the old oak tree."
"Little bird! little bird! stay with me!"
"Nay, little damsel! away I'll fly
To greener fields and warmer sky;
When spring returns with pattering rain,
You'll hear my merry song again."
"Little bird! little bird! who'll guide thee
Over the hills and over the sea?
Foolish one! come in the house to stay,
For I'm very sure you'll lose your way."
"Ah, no, little maiden! God guides me
Over the hills and over the sea;
I will be free as the rushing air
And sing of sunshine everywhere."
— Lydia Maria Child