Tiny Story Book


See, Charles, how little Robin lies:
The film is on his gentle eyes;
His pretty beak is parted wide,
And blood is flowing from his side.
And Willy, when from school he comes,
Will run and get some little crumbs,
And fling them round, and wait to see
Robin hop lightly from the tree,
To pick the crumbs up, one by one,
And sing and chirp, when he has done;—
Then when I show him Robin dead,
How many bitter tears he'll shed!

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