An Epitaph On A Robin Red-Breast

Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
When piping winds are hushed around,
A small note wakes from the underground,
Where now his tiny bones are laid.
No more in lone and leafless groves,
With ruffled wing and faded breast,
His friendless, homeless spirit roves;
--Gone to the world where birds are blest!
Or school-boy's giant form is seen;
But Love, and Joy, and smiling Spring
Inspire their little souls to sing!

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