God’s birdlet knows

Nor care nor toil;

Nor weaves it painfully

An everlasting nest.

Thro’ the long night on the twig it slumbers;

When rises the red sun

Birdie listens to the voice of God

And it starts and it sings.

When Spring Nature’s Beauty

And the burning summer have passed

And the fog and the rain

By the late fall are brought

Men are wearied men are grieved

But birdie flies into distant lands

Into warm climes beyond the blue sea:

Flies away until the spring.