Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Look what a nice, new coat is mine;
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life,

Broods in the grass while her husband sings,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Brood, kind creature, you need not fear

Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.

Modest and shy as a nun is she;

One weak chirp is her only note;

Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Never was I afraid of man,

Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. Chee, chee, chee.

Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight :

There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Nice good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.

Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

This new life is likely to be

Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care,

Off is his holiday garment laid,

Half forgotten that merry air

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

Nobody knows, but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.

Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows,
Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum crone ;
Off he flies and we sing as he goes,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink,

When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.

Chee, chee, chee.

William Cullen Bryant.

THE BLUEBIRD.

I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing,
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging.
Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary,-
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat!
Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
Listen a while, and you'll hear what he's saying,
Up in the apple-tree swinging and swaying.

"Dear little blossoms down under the snow,
You must be weary of winter, I know;
Hark while I sing you a message of cheer!
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!

"Little white snow-drop! I pray you arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come open your eyes;

Sweet little violets, hid from the cold,
Put on your mantles of purple and gold;
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!

- Emily Huntington Miller.

MILKING.

LITTLE dun cow to the apple-tree tied.
Chewing the cud of reflection,

I that am milking you, sit by your side,
Lost in a sad retrospection.

Far o'er the fields the tall daisies blush warm, For rosy the sunset is dying;

Across the still valley, o'er meadow and farm, The flush of its beauty is lying.

White foams the milk in the pail at my feet;
Clearly the robins are calling :

Soft blows the evening wind after the heat;
Cool the long shadows are falling.

Little dun cow, 'tis so tranquil and sweet!
Are you light-hearted, I wonder?
What do you think about something to eat?
On clover and grass do you ponder?

I am remembering days that are dead,
And a brown little maid in the gloaming,
Milking her cow, with the west burning red
Over waves that about her were foaming.

Up from the sad east the deep shadows gloomed
Out of the distance and found her;
Lightly she sang, while the solemn sea boomed
Like a great organ, around her.

Under the light-house no sweet-brier grew,
Dry was the grass, and no daisies

Waved in the wind, and the flowers were few
That lifted their delicate faces.

But O, she was happy, and careless, and blest,
Full of the song-sparrow's spirit ;

Grateful for life, for the least and the best
Of the blessings that mortals inherit.