LIT-TLE rob-in, wild bird,
Sing-ing sweet and blithe,
Care-less of Time's hour glass
And his crook-ed scythe,
Prod-i-gal of pleas-ure
In a harm-less way,
Greet-ing in the sun-shine
This thy hol-i-day.
When the or-phan chil-dren
Wan-dered in the wood,
We shall stillre-mem-ber
Thou wert kind and good;
As their cheeks grew pa-ler,
And with tears were wet,
Thou didst sprin-kle o'er them
Man-y a vi-o-let.
Cheer us in the au-tumn,
When the rains be-gin,
While the gay flow-ers with-er,
And the woods grow thin.
[Illustration]