O world of springtime! Youth, Love sings to thee,Delirious with joy, And ecstasy.
A nest lies hidden, Wrought with hours of love;With woven straw beneath, And sky above.
In downy comfort Strife has ready bent,'Midst angry pluck and chirp, And discontent,
And low complaining, Featherless and gaunt,The wee things gaping plead Incessant want.
Small crime! injustice! See the widest bill,The mother at the nest Her charge refill,
While some poor nestling Smaller than the rest,Who pipes too low, is left Half supperless.
Page Thirty-seven
