To a Robin in the Roses

Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn,

His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn,

A little bird took from that crown one thorn.

To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head,

That bird did what she could; His blood, 'tis said,

Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red.

Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest;

Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest;

All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast.

--from The Redbreast--A Breton Legend, in "English Lyrics"