“His eye—his eye!” all the children cried— “What of his eye?” The Elf, aside, Once more at Toody stole a glance, And Toody a quiet nod gave askance, As much as to say, “I’ll find you a chance.” And then the Elf gave a downward squint At the close cage-door, by way of a hint; And, after scratching his apricot cheek, Of the robin again he proceeded to speak,— Jumping down to the floor of the cage, And acting a “robin” as if on the stage. “His eye! his eye! The clear round mirror of jet and light, Caught a glimpse of me. He bobbed—took wing—and was out of sight. Well, good folks—well! I have more to tell! Then I stood up in the rabbit-path, Winding along the low banks of the rill, Where I saw the robin taking his bath, And I fancy I see him still! True, as I say, he came back once more, With a fluster’d air, and in anger; I vow He look’d like an alderman lecturing the poor, But meaning at last to—_unlock the cage-door_! Methinks, I see him now! Along and across, he hops and he flits Just so!—on my word—just so! Then suddenly—look, there he sits Upon a topmost twig! He took a flight—and then a hop— Again a flight, Then perch’d so light Upon the twig’s tip-top! Look at his large bright eye, Very round and very black; Now he bobs, and now he bows, Incessantly, With head, and tail, and back; Bob, tail—and now bob, nose, Up and down he goes, Then off he flies in a crack! Upon a tall tree bough, There—there! I see him now! Come, Bob, come! He sits quite dumb— What cares he for a crumb— Look at his breast so red! Again he bows his head, Bobs and bows—ruffles his wings— Now smoothes them down, and then he sings. How he sings and warbles sweet! No more bobbing, Hob-and-nobbing, Quiet he sits, and fills the air With music delicate and rare; And now he glances at his feet, Then like a gentleman complete He bobs again—gives one quick bow, As I do now!— Points down his tail, and up his nose— And _off_ he goes!” “Run, Tiny—run!—Oh, Kitty, Twig, and Crocus! The little wretch is gone!—oh, villain, thus to joke us! Run, Toody—run!—you, you are the deceiver That loosen’d the cage-door!—I’m surely in a fever! Tiny, chase him—Tiny, catch him! Oh, Kitty, Twig, and Crocus— The robin redbreast story was only meant to hoax us! Away—away—away! Come all into the wood! Follow me, I say, I say, I say, Through brambles, weeds, and mud!” Oh, none shall run to-day So fast as Granny Grey, She hath the youngest blood!