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The Caged Canary
Morning fair to night succeeds;
Baby's laughing at the fire;
My canary shells his seeds,
And scrapes his beak against the wire.
Now he's tweet-a-tweeting loud,
Ruffling up his wings and neck;
Now he sleeks his plumage proud,
Cleans it clear of spot or speck.
Now with golden feathers flirting
Water over golden sand;
Now his twittering and chirping
Turns to music loud and grand.
What a carol! Why, I'm certain
It would nearly fill a church;
And he sings, and sings, until he
Almost tumbles off his perch.
Oh! my golden, gay canary,
Singing sweetly in all weathers,
Take the thanks of little Mary,
With the sunshine on your feathers!
Grateful for the smallest favours,
Only sand, and seed, and water—
With your gracious, gay behaviours,
Sweet the lesson you have taught her.
Gemmer, C. M. Children of the Sun, Etc., Etc., Etc.: Poems for the Young. London: F. Warne , 1869.127-8. F. Warne was Beatrix Potter's publisher.