THE skylark's nest among the grass

And waving corn is found;

The robin's on a shady bank,

With oak-leaves strewed around.

The wren builds in an ivied thorn,

Or old and ruined wall;

The mossy nest so covered in,

You scarce can see at all.

The martins build their nests of clay,

In rows beneath the eaves;

The silvery lichens, moss, and hair,

The chaffinch interweaves.

The cuckoo makes no nest at all,

But through the woods she strays,

Until she finds one snug and warm,

And there her eggs she lays.

The sparrow has a nest of hay,

With feathers warmly lined;

The ring-dove's careless nest of sticks,

On lofty trees we find.

Rooks build together in a wood,

And often disagree;

The owl will build inside a barn,

Or in a hollow tree

The blackbird's nest of grass and mud

In bush and bank is found;

The lapwing's darkly spotted eggs

Are laid upon the ground.

The magpie's nest is made with thorns,

In leafless tree or hedge;

The wild duck and the waterhen

Build by the water's edge.

Birds build their nests from year to year,

According to their kind;

Some very neat and beautiful,—

Some simpler ones we find.




Books of Sony.