St. Nicholas/Volume 32/Number 1/Last Little Bird

by Ella S. Sargent

The Last Little Bird.

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By Ella S. Sargent.

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Once there was a little bird who would n’t sing. Her tree was bare; there was scarcely a seed in the field and no music in her voice.

“Come,” called the flocks of birds overhead, “come South with us, We know!”

“No,” answered the little bird, tucking her head under her wing; “I know!”

Thumpity-thump, went her little heart: “Those birds know!”

“Let ’s up and away,” said the restless wings.

“Keep still!” said the cross little bird.

Then the river and the pond froze up, and there was no water to drink,

Next the snow came and covered the ground, and there was no food to eat.

“Better fly South,” fluttered the wings.

“I ’m too weak,” cried the hungry, sad little bird.

Then the little bird chirped a few faint notes, spread her wings and flew to a near-by town.

There a, thoughtful child at a window saw the little bird and spread some crumbs upon the sill.

A big dog in the yard said: “Drink from my pan.”

“Let ’s fly farther,” said the wings.

The little bird sang a sweet song to the thoughtful child in the window.

“Good luck!” barked the dog. “Come back in the spring!”

And away flew the little bird—away and away to the South, where all the birds sang: “She comes, she comes!”