FAREWELL TO A RURAL RESIDENCE. 79
And the squirrel from the boughs
His broken uuts let fall, And the merry, merry little birds
Sang at his festival.
Yon old forsaken nests
Returning spring shall cheer, And thence the unfledg'd robin send
His greeting wild and clear ; And from yon clustering vine,
That wreathes the casement round, The humming-birds' unresting wing
Send forth a whirring sound ;
And where alternate springs
The lilac's purple spire Fast by its snowy sister's side ;
Or where, with wing of fire, The kingly oricle glancing went
Amid the foliage rare, Shall many a group of children tread,
But mine will not be there.
Fain would I know what forms
The mastery here shall keep, What mother in yon nursery fair
Rock her young babes to sleep ;
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