Out In The Storm
Shrill, shriek the winter winds,
And through the hemlocks sigh;
Swift, in a wild and merry dance,
The snowflakes whirl across the sky.
The trees with icy boughs
Stand crackling in the gale;
Low from his kennel, snug and warm,
Echoes old Carlo's mournful wail.
Heap high the blazing grate,
And fill the house with cheer;
In cozy circle clustered round,
No storms we happy children fear;
Though the loud, whistling blasts
O'er land and ocean roam,
We laugh and sing without a care,
Safe in our own dear sheltering home.
But listen! "Tap, tap, tap,"
Upon the window-pane.
You roguish wind, we love you not;
Pray fly away, nor come again
Ah, look! A tiny beak!
A shrewd and sparkling eye!
'T is Master Snow-bird's plaintive chirp:
"Feed me, kind friends, nor let me die!"
Hasten! The choicest crumbs
Pour on the windowsill.
Welcome, lone wanderers in the gale;
Come, snowbirds all, and take your fill.
He darts away in fright;
Quick, close the sash, and wait!
See, he returns on fluttering wing,
And, joyful, calls his mate.
How sweet amid the storm
Their twitters of delight!
And, while we watch their eager joy,
How our own hearts grow warm and light!
Only two mites of birds,
Two specks on the gray sky;
Yet not one pang nor joy they feel
Escapes the heavenly Father's eye.
Our Little Ones.
