Art thou the bird whom Man loves best, The pious bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin; The bird that comes about our doors When autumn winds are sobbing?

Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men.

Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like a malcontent, to relish a love-song like a robin-redbreast, to walk alone lik ...

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best att ...

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my easement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my ...