There came to my window one morning in Spring

A sweet little Robin; she came there to sing.

The tune that she sang, it was prettier far

Than any I heard on the flute or guitar.

Her wings she was spreading to soar far away,

Then resting a moment seemed sweetly to say:

“Oh happy, how happy the world seems to be!

Awake, Little Girl and be happy with me!”

But just as she finished her beautiful song,

A thoughtless young man with a gun came along.

He killed and he carried my sweet bird away,

She no more will sing at the dawn of the day.