When the bud breaks out on the maple bough
Mother and me we build our nest--
A twig from the yard and a wisp from the mow
And four blue eggs 'neath the mother breast.
Up in the tree, mother and me,
Happy and blithe and contented are we.
When the daisies fall and the roses die,
An empty nest in the boughs to swing--
Four young robins that learn to fly
And a sweet adieu till another spring.
Then up in the tree, mother and me,
Happy once more and contented we'll be.
The applause wasn't so loud after Mr. Robin's poem, but they all said it
was very pretty, and Mr. 'Possum even wiped his eyes with his
handkerchief, because it made him remember something sad. Mr. Rabbit
said that it ought to be "Mother and I," but that it didn't make much
difference, he supposed, about grammar, so long as it rhymed and sounded
nice. Then Mr. Crow got up.