The Ballade of Butterflies, by Joyce Kilmer
Because we never build a nest
And no one of us...
Robin Poems
The Coming of Spring, by Mary Dow Brine
The ice-king trembles on his throne,
And hold...
The Old Barn, by Mary Dow Brine
Oh! A jolly old place is grandpa's barn,
Wher...
A Summer Afternoon, by Mary Dow Brine
A daisied meadow lying fair under a summer sky;...
The First Phebe, by Obadiah Cyrus Auringer
Sweet latest herald of the spring,
Fresh from...
The Old Balsam, by Obadiah Cyrus Auringer
Year in, year out, unchanged thou standest th...
Fight, by Percy MacKaye
The Tale of a Gunner at the Battle of Plattsbur...
To a Robin Redbreast, by Richard Chenevix Trench
SINGING IN WINTER Oh light of heart and wing, ...
The Fog, by Robert Leighton
And is this day, or is it night,
That is nei...
Trailing Arbutus, by Rose Terry Cooke
Darlings of the forest!
Blossoming alone
When...
Interview With a Robin, by S. Moore
One eve while indulging my poetic mood,
Stray...
Recollections of Ireland, by S. Moore
The mists obscured the mountain peaks,
And hi...
September, by Teresa Hooley
The swallows wheel about the sky,
Trying thei...
Matin Song, by Thomas Heywood
Pack, clouds, away! And welcome, day!
With ...
To a Dead Friend , by Langston Hughes
The moon still sends its mellow lightThrough th...