| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 739. Why the Robin’s Breast Was Red |
| | | By James Ryder Randall |
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| THE SAVIOUR, bowed beneath his cross, climbed up the dreary hill, | |
| And from the agonizing wreath ran many a crimson rill; | |
| The cruel Roman thrust him on with un-relenting hand, | |
| Till, staggering slowly mid the crowd, He fell upon the sand. | |
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| A little bird that warbled near, that memorable day, | 5 |
| Flitted around and strove to wrench one single thorn away; | |
| The cruel spike impaled his breast,—and thus, ’t is sweetly said, | |
| The Robin has his silver vest incarnadined with red. | |
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| Ah, Jesu! Jesu! Son of man! My dolor and my sighs | |
| Reveal the lesson taught by this winged Ishmael of the skies. | 10 |
| I, in the palace of delight or cavern of despair, | |
| Have plucked no thorns from thy dear brow, but planted thousands there! | |
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