An Epitaph on a Robin Redbreast

Tread lightly here; for here, 'tis said,

When piping winds are hush'd around,

A small note wakes from underground,

Where now his tiny bones are laid.

No more in lone or leafless groves,

With ruffled wing and faded breast,

His friendless, homeless spirit roves;

Gone to the world where birds are blest!

Where never cat glides o'er the green,

Or school-boy's giant form is seen;

But love, and joy, and smiling Spring

Inspire their little souls to sing!