Poems (Rice)/Found at Last

by Maria Theresa Rice

FOUND AT LAST.

O MOTHER! here, on this old tree,
 A tiny nest;
This apple-bough—O haste and see
 Red-robin's breast!

This nest, it is so sweetly made
 Of straw, hair, lace:
The clay is just like plaster laid,
 With skill and grace.

And green leaves, like a curtain, fall
 Over her head;
Resting softly, bright breast and all;
 Who made her bed?

See, mother, Robin red-breast stole
 That tiny sleeve
Of baby's, made of cambric fine;
 Would you believe?

Your basket on the window there
 All open lay,
When robin in her beak did bear
 The lost away.

We searched the house in every place,
 Grace, Bell, and I,
To find the pretty sleeve of lace
 Robin placed high.

It formed a portion of her nest
 Swung from the bough;
Sweet bird, with little scarlet breast,
 We've caught you now!