Agricultural And Domestic

" You're a little thief," I saicï, To Robin Redbreast, blithe and fat ; " You stole my cherries ripc and red - !Vowf what have you to ffay to that?" In songf ui speech he eweetiy said, His bosom glowing iike the morn. " I take my pay in cherries red Por workiDg in your vines and cofn." 11 My swcctest strains I sing for you," Ue said, ia muBic low and soft ; And then hin brown wing shook the dow In showers from hia organ loft. Like tears the dew feil, and I said, Between the pauses of his strain, " Sweet robin, eat my cherries red - I will nut cali you thief again." Now every year, when spring returns, He perches on the topmost bough, And tiiere hi8 tinted bosom burns, With songs of cheer that speed the plow. He toils amid the fruit and corn, And eaves the crops from waateful tlight ; He calis me up with songa at mofe, He soothes me wilh his songs at night. The robin is my princc of pets - I wish him joy and length of days; He more ttían paye for all he gets In honest toü And hymns of praise.