Too Low.

"My house is thatched with violet leaves     And paved with daisies fine,     Scarlet berries droop over its eaves,     Tall grasses round it shine;     With softest down I have lined my nest,     Securely now will I sit and rest.     "When their wings break from their silvery shell,     Touched by my tender care,     Here shall my little ones safely dwell,     Little ones soft and fair;     Some summer morn they shall try their wings     While their father sits by my side and sings."     Hard by, just over the streamlet's edge     A great rock towered in might,     High up, half hidden in moss and sedge,     Were safe little nooks and bright;     Ah well for the bird with her tender breast,     Had she flown to the rock to build her nest!     Poor bird, she built her nest too low;     Alas! for the bird, alas!     That she chose that spot to her woe     In the low dewy grass;     For the reaper came with his gleaming blade.     Alas for love in the violet shade!