Classic Poem

High on the top of an old pine tree,
Broods a mother dove with her young ones three;
Warm over them is her soft downy breast,
And they sing so sweetly in their nest:
" Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
All in their nest in the old pine tree.

Soundly they sleep through the moonshiny night,
Each young one cover'd and tuck'd in tight;
Morn wakes them up with the first blush of light,
And they sing to each other with all their might, —
" Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
All in their nest in the old pine tree.

When in the nest they are all left alone,
While their mother far for their dinner has flown,
Quiet and gentle they all remain,
Till their mother they see come home again:
Then " Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
All in their nest in the old pine tree.

When they are fed by their tender mother,
One never will push nor crowd another;
Each opens widely his own little bill,
And he patiently waits, and gets his fill:
Then " Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
All in their nest in the old pine tree.

Wisely the mother begins, by and by,
To make her young ones learn to fly;
Just for a little way over the brink,
Then back to the nest as quick as wink:
And " Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
All in their nest in the old pine tree.

Fast grow the young ones, day and night,
Till their wings are plumed for a longer flight;
Till unto them at the last draws nigh
The time when they all must say good bye:
Then " Coo, " say the little ones, " Coo, " says she,
And away they fly from the old pine tree!