Mother

But if you were a little bird-- My baby-blossom. Nestling so cosily In mother's bosom,-- A bird, as we see them now, When the snows harden, And the wind's blighting breath Howls round the garden:

What would you do, poor bird, In winter drear? No nest to creep into, No mother near: Hungry and desolate, Weary and woeful, All the earth bound with frost, All the sky snow-full?

CHILD (thoughtfully).

That would be sad, and yet Hear what I'd do-- Mother, in winter time I'd come to you! If you can like the birds Spite of their thieving, Give them your trees to build, Garden to live in,

I think if I were a bird When winter comes I'd trust you, mother dear, For a few crumbs, Whether I sang or not, Were lark, thrush, or starling.--

MOTHER (aside).

Then--Father--I trust Thee With this my darling.