Lindley Murray's English Reader_, it is not improbable that we were in a
condition to overestimate the contributions to the poet's corner of our
village newspaper. Be that as it may, we welcome them as we would the
face of an old friend, for they somehow remind us of the scent of
haymows, the breath of cattle, the fresh greenery by the brookside, the
moist earth broken by the coulter and turned up to the sun and winds of
May. This particular piece, which follows, is entitled _The Sparrow_,
and was occasioned by the crushing of a bird's-nest by the author while
ploughing among his corn. It has something of the simple tenderness of
Burns.

"Poor innocent and hapless Sparrow
Why should my mould-board gie thee sorrow!
This day thou'll chirp and mourn the morrow
Wi' anxious breast;
The plough has turned the mould'ring furrow
Deep o'er thy nest!

"Just I' the middle o' the hill
Thy nest was placed wi' curious skill;
There I espied thy little bill
Beneath the shade.
In that sweet bower, secure frae ill,
Thine eggs were laid.

"Five corns o' maize had there been drappit,
An' through the stalks thy head was pappit,
The drawing nowt could na be stappit
I quickly foun';
Syne frae thy cozie nest thou happit,
Wild fluttering roun'.

"The sklentin stane beguiled the sheer,
In vain I tried the plough to steer;
A wee bit stumpie I' the rear
Cam' 'tween my legs,
An' to the jee-side gart me veer
An' crush thine eggs.

"Alas! alas! my bonnie birdie!
Thy faithful mate flits round to guard thee.
Connubial love!--a pattern worthy
The pious priest!
What savage heart could be sae hardy
As wound thy breast?

"Ah me! it was nae fau't o' mine;
It gars me greet to see thee pine.
It may be serves His great design
Who governs all;
Omniscience tents wi' eyes divine
The Sparrow's fall!

"How much like thine are human dools,
Their sweet wee bairns laid I' the mools?