A Song for the Boy - An 1858 Poem

Don't shoot the birds, the warbling birds

That cheer you with their song,

That fill the air with melodies,

A bright and happy throng;

That carol forth their native lays,

From shrubs and lofty limb,

And gaily sing their tuneful strains

From morn till evening dim.

 

Don't shoot the birds, the harmless birds,

That come with buds and flowers,

That sooth the farmer's daily toll

Through summer's sultry hours;

That build their nests and brood their young

Beside your cottage door,

And linger near from early spring

Till autumn's golden store.

 

Don't shoot the birds, the sportive birds,

That flit o'er hill and plain,

That leave when chilling winter comes

But soon return again.

That warble out their hymns of praise

With many a gleeful voice,

Which calms the daily cares of life,

And bids the heart rejoice.

July 21, 1858. Beaver County Argus 34(31): 1.