Don't Shoot the Birds - An 1857 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 shrub 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 weary toil

Through summer's sultry hours;

That build their nest 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 flirt 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 claims the daily cares of life,

And bids the heart rejoice.

August 7, 1857. Tiffin Tribune 9(44): 1.