Robin Red-breast on the tree,
Do you sing that song for me?
“You are listening it is true,
But I do not sing for you.
Higher yet on tiptoe rise,
Do n't you see a pair of eyes
Peeping through the pleasant shade
Which the summer leaves have made?
There they watch me all day long,
Brightening at my cheerful song,
Turning wheresoe'er I go
For the evening meal below.
Dearest mate that ever blest
Happy lover — peaceful nest,—
Guarding well our eggs of blue,
All my songs I sing for you!”