POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1979, 28 June 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

THE EEDBEEAST. P?K>m an old “ Eraser’* Magazine.”] “Then when He drooped Hie head, a little bird flew down from heaven, and plucked at the crown of thorns, that it might in some wise wrest one of the thirty and three from His brow. But it tore its plumage till its breast was covered with blood. Wherefore it is called the robin redbreast to this day; and little children love the bird that was faithful at His need to Him who said, ‘ Suffer little children to come unto me.’ ” —“ Legends of the Church.” Erom the Saviour’s brow they fell like rain, The drops of agony ; Girt and galled with the crown of pain, Thirty thorns and three. The heavenly host in shame and woe. Bowed the head and veiled the eye — Kansomed men on the earth below, Shouted to see Him die. Bent was the temple’s massive crest, Dark was the Syrian air. Were there ncne to help, and none to protest, Of all God’s creatures there ? Did they fail Him all, the strong, the weak ? A little bird flew softly down, And fluttered and tore with its tiny beak, At the links of the platted crown. A little bird with a russet breast, And it gave its blood so free. But one from the Saviour’s brow to wrest. Of those thirty points and three. So hard it strove, yet strove in vain— Its tender plumage dark and torn— Spotting its breast with a crimson stain, As it dragged at the clinging thorn. That little bird, so weak, so true, — Though ages pass away— Still bears on its breast the crimson hue That tells of its faith to-day. And children still the redbreast greet. For His dear sake of whom they tell, That He suffers the little ones at His feet, And loves the helpless well.