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Flown! my little ones? Your cunning house, So deftly hid beneath the mantling vine, Quite empty? But a few short days it seems, Since first we spied you, a, strange, breathing mass, Unfledged and shapeless, with bright, staring eyes, And ever-open beak. We often came To inspect your tiny tenement, because Your parents were our lodgers, in a nook Of the piazza, where the vine-leaves curled, And thatched it like a cottage. They were out Most of their time, upon the busy wing, Seeking your food, while you at leisure lived, Eating and chirping, with an equal zeal Alternately; for whatsoe'er they brought Was eagerly received. I feared you 'd be Such gormandizers, that you 'd never learn Your gamut; for you certainly were blest With a most wondrous appetite. And still, To help the matter on, my little girl Amused herself by dropping now and then A small green grape into your gaping mouths,