On the Death of a Robin Red-breast

Sweet, gentle Bird! whose shiv'ring breast,When dreary shows had chill'd the plain,To Pity came, a gentle guest!Nor ask'd a shelter there in vain.

Sweet bird! whose soft endearing pow'r,By Gratitude more pleasing grew!'Twas thine to charm the weary hour,And cheer thy benefactor too;

To sooth him with thy warbling lay,With playful tricks his smile to win,And frowning Care flew far away,When gentle Robin once came in!

But oh! the killing winter soonHas pierc'd, within the keen abode,Even there where Pity gave its boon,Ev'n there where Gratitude has glow'd!

And both shall now bestow a tear,(Tho' more, alas! they cannot do)They smil'd on Robin's short career,They pay him now their last adieu!

Benevolence itself shall blessThe tear, which kindly now shall fall,'Tis her's the stranger to caress—'Tis Charity's to feel for all.