Down from the flowering tulip-tree
The birds of love flew down to me,—
The birds of love with plumage rare
Sped in circles 'bout my hair,
And it was dawn and I was glad,
And Dawn appeared, a Spartan lad;
With flowers twined about his hair,
A countenance that knew not care.
The flow'rs waved in careless joy
As they nodded and danced o'er the head of the boy.
Lo! he picked the birds up one by one
And he killed them in his wanton fun,
So I cried to him: "They're the birds of love
That abide in the jewelled tree above,
And the tree and the birds are the jewels of love."
But the youth of the morn with laughter cried:
"Those birds are mine that you espied;
Mine are these birds, and mine this tree:
I am the God of Love," cried he,
"The God of Love, of birds and tree."
"I weep for the birds, for they brought me love
Down from the tulip-tree above,
From the tree above they brought me love."
"I'll give you love, my sorrowful brave—
I'll give you myself to hold as a slave,"
So taking Love as a slave with me,
Fast I fled from the tulip-tree;
I fled from the tree and my slave with me,—
Love was the slave and I Poetry.
