Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume V. Nature. 1904. | | | | VI. Animate Nature | | Robert of Lincoln | | William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878) |
| | | MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, | |
| Near to the nest of his little dame, | |
| Over the mountain-side or mead, | |
| Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | 5 |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| Snug and safe is that nest of ours, | |
| Hidden among the summer flowers. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed, | 10 |
| Wearing a bright black wedding coat; | |
| White are his shoulders and white his crest, | |
| Hear him call in his merry note: | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | 15 |
| Look, what a nice new coat is mine, | |
| Sure there was never a bird so fine. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Robert of Lincoln’s Quaker wife, | |
| Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, | 20 |
| Passing at home a patient life, | |
| Broods in the grass while her husband sings: | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| Brood, kind creature; you need not fear | 25 |
| Thieves and robbers while I am here. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Modest and shy as a nun is she, | |
| One weak chirp is her only note, | |
| Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, | 30 |
| Pouring boasts from his little throat: | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| Never was I afraid of man; | |
| Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. | 35 |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Six white eggs on a bed of hay, | |
| Flecked with purple, a pretty sight! | |
| There as the mother sits all day, | |
| Robert is singing with all his might: | 40 |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| Nice good wife, that never goes out, | |
| Keeping house while I frolic about. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | 45 |
| |
| Soon as the little ones chip the shell | |
| Six wide mouths are open for food; | |
| Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, | |
| Gathering seed for the hungry brood. | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | 50 |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| This new life is likely to be | |
| Hard for a gay young fellow like me. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Robert of Lincoln at length is made | 55 |
| Sober with work, and silent with care; | |
| Off is his holiday garment laid, | |
| Half forgotten that merry air, | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | 60 |
| Nobody knows but my mate and I | |
| Where our nest and our nestlings lie. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | |
| |
| Summer wanes; the children are grown; | |
| Fun and frolic no more he knows; | 65 |
| Robert of Lincoln’s a humdrum crone; | |
| Off he flies, and we sing as he goes: | |
| Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, | |
| Spink, spank, spink; | |
| When you can pipe that merry old strain, | 70 |
| Robert of Lincoln, come back again. | |
| Chee, chee, chee. | | | | |
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