[nukkad] Why The Robin's Breast Was Red

[adheer <>]

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Why The Robin's Breast Was Red 

The Saviour, bowed beneath his cross, climbed up the
dreary hill,
And from the agonizing wreath ran many a crimson rill;
The cruel Roman thrust him on with unrelenting hand,
Till, staggering slowly, 'mid the crowd, He fell upon
the sand.


A little bird that warbled near, that memorable day, 
Flitted around and strove to wrench one single thorn
away;
The cruel spike impaled his breast,--and thus, 'tis
sweetly said,
The Robin has his silver vest incarnadined with red. 

Selected from James Ryder Randall 
E. C. Stedman's Anthology)
 



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