A little bird, with feathers brown,
Sat singing on a tree;
That song was very soft and low,
But sweet as it could be.
And all the people passing by,
Looked up to see the bird,
Whose singing was the sweetest
That ever they had heard.
But all the bright eyes looked in vain,
For birdie was so small;
And with a modest dark brown coat,
He made no show at all.
"Papa, dear," little Gracie said,
"Where can this birdie be?
If I could only sing like that
I'd sit where folks could see."
"I hope my little girl will learn
A lesson from that bird,
And try to do what good she can-
Not to be seen or heard.
"This birdie is content to sit
Unnoticed by the way;
And sweetly sing his Master's praise,
From dawn to close of day.
"So live, my child, to do some good,
Let life be short or long:
Though others may forget your looks
They'll not forget your song."