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By Whittier, John Greenleaf
She dropped for bird and beast forlorn
Her little store of nuts and corn,
And thus her timid guests bespoke
"Come, squirrel, from your hollow oak,--
Come, black old crow,--come, poor blue-jay,
Before your supper's blown away
Don't be afraid, we all are good;
And I'm mamma's Red Riding-Hood!"
Artist: Whittier, John Greenleaf
Year: 1850