THE BIRD.

"BIRDIE, Birdie, will you pet? Summer-time is far away yet, You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed, And a pillow of satin for your head!"

"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall; No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall; The sun peeps gay at dawn of day, And I sing, and wing away, away!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet? Diamond-stones and amber and jet We'll string for a necklace fair and fine To please this pretty bird of mine!"

"O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet, But here is something daintier yet,— A feather-necklace round and round, That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet? We'll buy you a dish of silver fret, A golden cup and an ivory seat, And carpets soft beneath your feet!"

"Can running water be drunk from gold? Can a silver dish the forest hold? A rocking twig is the finest chair, And the softest paths lie through the air,— Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"