Cries the little sister, watching,
"Whither now can he flee?
Black through the whirling snow-flakes
Glooms the awful face of the sea,
"Whither now can he flee?
Black through the whirling snow-flakes
Glooms the awful face of the sea,
"And tossed and torn by the tempest,
He must sink in the bitter brine!
Why couldn't we pity and save him
Till the sun again should shine?"
He must sink in the bitter brine!
Why couldn't we pity and save him
Till the sun again should shine?"
They drew her back to the fireside
And laughed at her cloudy eyes,—
"What, mourn for that robber-fellow,
The cruellest bird that flies!
And laughed at her cloudy eyes,—
"What, mourn for that robber-fellow,
The cruellest bird that flies!
"Your song-sparrow hardly would thank you,
And which is the dearest, pray?"
But she heard at the doors and windows
The lashing of the spray;
And which is the dearest, pray?"
But she heard at the doors and windows
The lashing of the spray;
And as ever the shock of the breakers
The heart of their quiet stirred,
She thought, "O would we had sheltered him,
The poor, unhappy bird!"
The heart of their quiet stirred,
She thought, "O would we had sheltered him,
The poor, unhappy bird!"
