  "Beauty! all—all—is beauty?" Was ever a bird so wrong! "No young in the nest, no mate, no duty?" Ribald! is this your song? "Glad it is ended," are you? The Spring and its nuptial fear? "Freedom is better than love?" beware you There will be May next year! "Beauty!" again? still "beauty"? Wait till the winter comes! Till kestrel and hungry kite seek booty And there are so few crumbs! Wait? nay, fling it unbidden, The false little song you prate! Too sweet are its fancies to be chidden, E'en of the rudest fate! |
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