THE BIRD'S NEST.

Two robins came in early Spring,— When Winter's reign was o'er; And every morn I heard them sing Just by our cottage door.

They built their nest of moss and hay Within a maple-tree,— And thither every pleasant day, I went to hear and see.

At first whene'er I came they flew, Or eyed me in alarm; But soon my step familiar grew, I never did them harm.

One day a louder song I heard, With eager cries for food; And then I helped the mother-bird To still her hungry brood.

I always seemed a welcome guest; Both old and young I fed, Then settling down beneath the nest, Some pleasant book I read.

I watched them fondly day by day, Until their wings were grown; When suddenly they flew away, And left me all alone.

The bitter tears began to start, And full of sad regret I wondered in my simple heart, If birds could thus forget!

Ah! many summers have returned, And many changes wrought, Since I the mournful lesson learned, In early childhood taught.

And many hopes have taken wings On which my heart was set,— And I have found that many things As well as birds forget!