Dear Grandpa Lee, with little Grace,
Followed the path-way to the mill;
Bright daisies starred the shady lane,
And now and then a bird would trill.
Once, when a birdling spread its wings,
She said, “All things are fair and gay,—
The sky so blue where birdie sings!”
Said grandpa, “This is Easter Day.”
Thus happily they onward went,
Till Grace cried, “There is little Kate,
And Frank and Nellie, too—and oh!
Nell’s swinging on the garden gate!”
As Grace and grandpa came in sight,
The little ones to meet them sped,—
Their eager, prattling lips apart,
Eyes flashing bright and cheeks rose-red.
“Oh, grandpa! in the hedge we’ve found
Four Easter eggs, all colored blue;
They’re in the sweetest little nest;
We want to show our prize to you!”
Said grandpa, “Touch them not, my dears;
Those eggs God dyed with colors rare;
The mother-bird will soon come back,
And guard her nest with loving care.
“These Easter eggs, in leaf-hid nests,
Imprison countless song-birds bright,
That soon will break the tinted shell
And rise and sing in joyous flight.”
