NATURAL HISTORY.

 

DLXXXV.

CoME hither, sweet Robin,
And be not afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather ;
Come hither, sweet Robin,
And pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold wea-
ther.
I don’t mean to frighten you,
Poor little thing,
And pussy-cat is not behind me; ¢
So hop about pretty, i
And drop down your wing,
And pick up some crumbs,
And don’t mind me.

     
 

DLXXXVI.
PIT, pat, well-a-day!
Little Robin flew away ;
Where can little Robin be ?
Gone into the cherry-tree.

DLXXXVII.

LITTLE Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail:
Niddle naddle went his head,
Wiggle waggle went his tail.
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