The Dead Canary

The little yellow canary that used to sing so sweetly grew sick and died. The children wept to see it.

“Let us bury him under the apple-tree,” said Alice; “every spring it will cover his grave with white blossoms.”

So Robert dug a small grave under the apple-tree, and Alice laid the canary gently in it. They covered him with the soft earth.

Every spring the apple-tree sent down his white blossoms on the grave.