Page:A Book of Nursery Rhymes.djvu/54

 hither, sweet Robin, And not be afraid, I would not hurt even a feather; Come hither, sweet Robin, And pick up some bread, To feed you this very cold weather

I don't mean to frighten you, Poor little thing, And pussy-cat is not behind me; So hop about pretty, And drop down your wing, And pick up some crumbs, And don't mind me.