C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Robert of Lincoln
By William Cullen Bryant (17941878)
M
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee.
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest.
Hear him call in his merry note:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look what a nice new coat is mine,
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink:
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.
One weak chirp is her only note.
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink:
Never was I afraid of man;
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can!
Chee, chee, chee.
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln’s a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:—
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.