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			 On fair Britania's isle, bright bird,
 A legend strange is told of thee,--
  'Tis said thy blithesome read more 
	 On fair Britania's isle, bright bird,
 A legend strange is told of thee,--
  'Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed
   While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary,
    Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind;
     And humbled to the very dust
      By the vile cross, while viler men
       Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just.
        Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down
         By our transgressions,--faint and weak,
          Crushed by an angry Judge's frown,
           And agonies no word can speak,--
            'Twas then, dear bird, the legend says
             That thou, from out His crown, didst tear
              The thorns, to lighten the distress
               And ease the pain that he must bear,
                While pendant from thy tiny beak
                 The gory points thy bosom pressed,
                  And crimsoned with thy Saviour's blood
                   The sober brownness of thy breast!
                    Since which proud hour for thee and thine.
                     As an especial sign of grace
                      God pours like sacramental wine
                       Red signs of favor o'er thy race! 
		
 
	
			 Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
 The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
  Our little read more 
	 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? 
		
 
	
			 Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
 And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
  And read more 
	 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 attire,
    Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay
     With his red stalks upon this sunny day! 
		
 
	
			 Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn,
 His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn,
  A read more 
	 Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn,
 His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn,
  A little bird took from that crown one thorn.
   To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head,
    That bird did what she could; His blood, 'tis said,
     Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red.
      Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest;
       Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest;
        All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast. 
		
 
	
			 Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren,
 Since o'er shady groves they hover,
  And with leaves and read more 
	 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. 
		
 
	
			 Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
 And at my easement sing,
  Though it should prove a farewell lay
read more 
	 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 requiem sing,
       Nor fail to be the harbinger
        Of everlasting spring. 
		
 
	
			 The redbreast oft, at evening hours,
 Shall kindly lend his little aid,
  With hoary moss, and gathered read more 
	 The redbreast oft, at evening hours,
 Shall kindly lend his little aid,
  With hoary moss, and gathered flowers,
   To deck the ground where thou art laid. 
		
 
	
			 The Redbreast, sacred to the household gods,
 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,
  In joyless fields and read more 
	 The Redbreast, sacred to the household gods,
 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,
  In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves
   His shivering mates, and pays to trusted Man
    His annual visit.