Читать книгу Devotional Poetry for the Children - Various - Страница 15

Thou’rt up betimes, my little bird,

And out this morning early,

For still the tender bud is closed,

And still the grass is pearly.

Why rise so soon, thou little bird,

Thy soft, warm nest forsaking?

To brave the dull, cold morning sky,

While day is scarcely breaking?

Ah! thou art wise, thou little bird,

For fast the hours are flying;

And this young day, but dawning now,

Will soon, alas! be dying.

I’ll learn of thee, thou little bird,

And slothful habits scorning,

No longer sleep youth’s dawn away,

Nor waste life’s precious morning.