Spare, ruthless fowler, spare
That harmless robin's breast!
Its downy vesture do not tear;
But leave the life-blood circling there,
Again to warm her nest;
For she is hastening home with food
Provided for her callow brood.
Her tender offspring see,
Were now thy shot to fly,
Left, as thy helpless babes would be,
‘ Reft of their mother and of thee,
To moan, and pine, and die.
Then let her pass unhurt along;
And she will thank thee with a song.