The Country Mice

The chickadee hath plumage of brown,

And wears on its head a black little crown,

Its song is not querulous, but fluty the note

That in liquid cadences flows from its throat.

Clad in soft downy plumage, the chickadee

Fears no cold in its nest in the hollow of tree:

And it comes to the garden to pick up the seed

The dear little children cast out for its feed.

The Little Chickadee Warbler of the Winter Woods

Isaac McLellan (1806 – 1899)