THE cherries are ripe on the tree, 

The birds in the nest are three, 

All chirping and full of glee, 

Oh! The sight is fair to see. 

The wind blows soft from the west, 

And life in the leaves is blest; 

The mother bird sings with a zest 

A song that is sweet with the best. 

A song that is silvery sweet—

Oh! To sing, glad bird, is meet. 

Where, where are the fairies fleet, 

Keeping time to your music complete 

Thus fair, till the sun goes down, 

And the shadows broad and brown, 

Hushing the song with their frown, 

Fall over the wee bird town. 

Then will sail up the sweet-faced moon, 

She who never can come too soon, 

And the stars with silver shoon 

Walk the sky in the night's clear noon. 

The cherries are ripe in the tree, 

And fair is your home to see. 

Oh! Sweet bird so full of glee; 

Long, long may you sing for me. 

Luella Cark.