THE DEAD ROBIN.

BY THE AUTHOR OF SOLITARY HOURS.'

I.

Poor robin redbreast!—there lies he!
We found him dead just now,

In our old mossy cherry-tree,

Just by the broken bough.

II.

Cried little Jane :

see, cherries red!"

At first we laughed at her;

But Mary loooked, and "Oh!" she said,

""Tis Rob's red stomacher."

III.

Too sure 'twas he-poor pretty thing!

He lay there, stiff and cold;

So stiff-his icy, frozen wing

We scarcely could unfold.