A Morning Call.
Come in and welcome, tiny thing,
With snowy breast and soft brown wing,
And beak of tawny hue.
But why, I pray, this wild alarm?
I will not let you come to harm;
I'm fond of such as you.
Stop, little bird ! you foolish thing !
Why will you beat your tender wing
Against the cruel pane?
I do the same myself; I fret
Against the bounds about me set,
And find it all in vain.
I cannot make you understand.
Wait__I will take you in my hand,
And put you through the door.
You precious, panting little mite I
The cat would eat you at a bite,
And lick his jaws for more.
He shall not have you, nor will I
Keep you from yonder clear blue sky.
There! soar where'er you list.
To cage a bird breaks Nature's laws;
And then I am and always was
Go, find your mate; she waits for you
Somewhere in yonder fields of blue,
Or on some swaying bough.
Tell her you got into a scrape,
But made a fortunate escape__
And please just tell her how.
You might have met a prisoner's doom,
When you came blundering to my room;
Yet I have set you free.
Then, Sometimes fold your wee brown wing
Upon my hickory tree, and sing
Your sweetest song to me.
__Ellen P. Allerton.