  On finding its nest and young. O little thrush, what gives thee such alarm? Pray fear thee not, nor think that I am come To injure or disturb thy happy home; Thy little ones so sweet I ne’er would harm. Thy love, like all true parents’ love, is strong— At all times anxious for thy young so dear; But put away now ev’ry needless fear, And once again resume thy happy song. Sweet bird, I wish thee never-ceasing cheer! Who, with devoted love and tender care, Look’st on thy nestlings now so young and fair. May never cruel enemy come near, Led by blood-thirsty instincts, to destroy Thy little home—now filled with peace and joy. |
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