Читать книгу Verses for Children, and Songs for Music - Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing - Страница 4

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Found in the garden—dead in his beauty.

Ah! that a linnet should die in the spring!

Bury him, comrades, in pitiful duty,

Muffle the dinner-bell, solemnly ring.

Bury him kindly—up in the corner;

Bird, beast, and gold-fish are sepulchred there;

Bid the black kitten march as chief mourner,

Waving her tail like a plume in the air.

Bury him nobly—next to the donkey;

Fetch the old banner, and wave it about:

Bury him deeply—think of the monkey,

Shallow his grave, and the dogs got him out.

Bury him softly—white wool around him,

Kiss his poor feathers—the first kiss and last;

Tell his poor widow kind friends have found him:

Plant his poor grave with what ever grows fast.

Farewell, sweet singer! dead in thy beauty,

Silent through summer, though other birds sing;

Bury him, comrades, in pitiful duty,

Muffle the dinner-bell, mournfully ring.