Little children, never give
For the crumbs you save at home,
Never hurt the timid hare
The little lark goes soaring high
Oh! let him sing his happy song,
Unknown Author
Pain to things that feel and live;
Let the gentle robin come;
As his meat you throw along...
He'll repay you with a song;
Peeping from her green grass lair,
Let her come and sport and play
On the lawn at close of day;
To the bright windows of the sky,
Singing as if 'twere always spring,
And fluttering on an untired wing.
Nor do these gentle creatures wrong