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Good-bye, little birdie!
Fly to the sky,
Singing and singing
A merry good-bye.
Tell all the other birds,
Flying above,
Nell, in the garden,
Sends them her love.
Tell how I found you,
Hurt, in a tree;
Then, when they’re wounded,
They’ll come right to me.
I’d like to go with you,
If I could fly;
It must be so beautiful
Up in the sky!
Why, little birdie,
Why don’t you go?
You sit on my finger
And shake your head, “No.”
He’s off! Oh, how quickly
And gladly he rose!
I know he will love me
Wherever he goes.
—— Mary Mapes Dodge
