The sky—thin gray; the sun—dim bright;
The mountains climb to some dim height.
All shadows ’round are dim on ground
And faint and soft comes every sound.

A sparrow flits right near my feet,
Hops and stops, and peeps light sweet.
His eye is clear; he hops again,
Quite happy in this world of men.

I toss a crumb; he flits a bit,
Then stares; then hops and makes a hit!
Away he flies with precious gold,
And soon there’s others feeling bold!

Gold bars are flung out left and right
Till peepings fill my ears with light,
And all is such a cheery hymn
I know no more the day is dim!