GROWING PAINS

Upon a Ceder trellis spread
    red roses turning brown
And beside those dainty blooms,
    lay without a sound,
A little bird whose weary eyes
    seemed to long for sleep
But perhaps too tired for that,
    it simply chose to weep.

Through window panes a girl gazed out
    upon that same fall day.
Her soft brown hair, as silk might be,
    shined in a lovely way.
She smiled and adjusted pleats
    in her dress, bright and trim,
But then succumbed to saddened heart
    as her brow turned to grim.

“Oh father!” She exclaimed in haste,
    “A bird within the vines.
It looks as though it were ill,
    see it’s waning signs?
Oh father, may I bring it in
    and nurse it here today?
I promise I’ll take care of it
    in every human way?

Dear, I wish that I could say
    there is hope for the bird.
I wish that you could understand
    how nature keeps its word
But I suppose that you must try,
    I fault you not for that.
Bring in the bird good hearted girl
    and nest it in my hat.

The girl raced out to bring the bird
     into the house that day
And then, as would Nurse Nightingale,
    nursed it in every way.
She tried to feed it milk and sugar
    and worms and crickets too
But the little bird soon closed it’s eyes
    and with the day was through.

The girl shed tears and asked God why
    one so young was taken
And why, with all her loving care,
    her efforts were forsaken.
Her father with a gentle hand
    dried her tear filled eyes,
“The only one to know my dear
    is God, almighty wise.

  ~Robert E. Browne~