By C. B.
Once, upon a winter day,As I sat, forlorn and sad,Thinking, in a fretful way,Of the time when I was glad—Hopping lightly o’er the snow,Came a robin that I know.On the window ledge he stood,With a bright inquiring eye;’Twas a compact that he shouldAlways call in passing by,Just to show we might pretendEach to entertain a friend.When I saw my tiny guestWaiting for his daily crumb,Dainty, trim, and self-possessed,Never doubting it would come,I could almost hear him say,“Mistress, food is scarce to-day.”And my heart made sad reply,As the little dole I threw,“Strange that one so poor as IShould have store enough for two!Robin, if the thing could be,Would you throw a crumb to me?”Not a sound disturbed the hush,Save my own impatient sigh—Robin to a neighboring bushDarted off without good bye.How! you leave me, faithless bird,As I waited for a word.Ah! I wronged that heart of flame:Through the silence, sweet and clear,Forth his cheery carol came,And I held my breath to hear,For that dear familiar strainWoke my better self again.Suddenly the music ceased,Yet the silence breathed of balm;Art thou flown, then, small hedge priest,Somewhere else to raise the psalm?“Man,” the Master finely said,“Doth not live alone by bread.”
Once, upon a winter day,As I sat, forlorn and sad,Thinking, in a fretful way,Of the time when I was glad—Hopping lightly o’er the snow,Came a robin that I know.On the window ledge he stood,With a bright inquiring eye;’Twas a compact that he shouldAlways call in passing by,Just to show we might pretendEach to entertain a friend.When I saw my tiny guestWaiting for his daily crumb,Dainty, trim, and self-possessed,Never doubting it would come,I could almost hear him say,“Mistress, food is scarce to-day.”And my heart made sad reply,As the little dole I threw,“Strange that one so poor as IShould have store enough for two!Robin, if the thing could be,Would you throw a crumb to me?”Not a sound disturbed the hush,Save my own impatient sigh—Robin to a neighboring bushDarted off without good bye.How! you leave me, faithless bird,As I waited for a word.Ah! I wronged that heart of flame:Through the silence, sweet and clear,Forth his cheery carol came,And I held my breath to hear,For that dear familiar strainWoke my better self again.Suddenly the music ceased,Yet the silence breathed of balm;Art thou flown, then, small hedge priest,Somewhere else to raise the psalm?“Man,” the Master finely said,“Doth not live alone by bread.”
Once, upon a winter day,As I sat, forlorn and sad,Thinking, in a fretful way,Of the time when I was glad—Hopping lightly o’er the snow,Came a robin that I know.
Once, upon a winter day,
As I sat, forlorn and sad,
Thinking, in a fretful way,
Of the time when I was glad—
Hopping lightly o’er the snow,
Came a robin that I know.
On the window ledge he stood,With a bright inquiring eye;’Twas a compact that he shouldAlways call in passing by,Just to show we might pretendEach to entertain a friend.
On the window ledge he stood,
With a bright inquiring eye;
’Twas a compact that he should
Always call in passing by,
Just to show we might pretend
Each to entertain a friend.
When I saw my tiny guestWaiting for his daily crumb,Dainty, trim, and self-possessed,Never doubting it would come,I could almost hear him say,“Mistress, food is scarce to-day.”
When I saw my tiny guest
Waiting for his daily crumb,
Dainty, trim, and self-possessed,
Never doubting it would come,
I could almost hear him say,
“Mistress, food is scarce to-day.”
And my heart made sad reply,As the little dole I threw,“Strange that one so poor as IShould have store enough for two!Robin, if the thing could be,Would you throw a crumb to me?”
And my heart made sad reply,
As the little dole I threw,
“Strange that one so poor as I
Should have store enough for two!
Robin, if the thing could be,
Would you throw a crumb to me?”
Not a sound disturbed the hush,Save my own impatient sigh—Robin to a neighboring bushDarted off without good bye.How! you leave me, faithless bird,As I waited for a word.
Not a sound disturbed the hush,
Save my own impatient sigh—
Robin to a neighboring bush
Darted off without good bye.
How! you leave me, faithless bird,
As I waited for a word.
Ah! I wronged that heart of flame:Through the silence, sweet and clear,Forth his cheery carol came,And I held my breath to hear,For that dear familiar strainWoke my better self again.
Ah! I wronged that heart of flame:
Through the silence, sweet and clear,
Forth his cheery carol came,
And I held my breath to hear,
For that dear familiar strain
Woke my better self again.
Suddenly the music ceased,Yet the silence breathed of balm;Art thou flown, then, small hedge priest,Somewhere else to raise the psalm?“Man,” the Master finely said,“Doth not live alone by bread.”
Suddenly the music ceased,
Yet the silence breathed of balm;
Art thou flown, then, small hedge priest,
Somewhere else to raise the psalm?
“Man,” the Master finely said,
“Doth not live alone by bread.”