In the dear old cedar-tree that stands
Before my cottage door
A bird's' nest 'mid the top-most boughs
Has been a year or more;
And looking from my window, I
This morning chanced to see.
The queerest bird upon that nest
In that old cedar-tree.
For wings, an extra pair of legs
He had; for feathers, fur:
For beak, a little pinkish nose;
And for a song, a purr.
A cat-bird he, but no cat-bird
That ever hopped or flew
Would own him as a brother-bird,
Or greet him with a mew.
But there he was upon the nest,
A-blinking in the sun,
And thinking to himself, no doubt.
"Oh! this is jolly fun."
And anything much cunninger
I'm sure could never be
Than that gray kitten playing bird
In our old cedar-tree.

[Begun in No. 80 of Harper's Young People, May 10.]