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But most of all, his Mother dear,
She led him home, and wept amain,
Thus, after he had fondly braved
THE GREEN LINNET.
The May is come again:—how sweet
To sit upon my Orchard-seat!
And Birds and Flowers once more to greet,
My last year's Friends together:
That doth my fancy tether.
One have I mark'd, the happiest Guest
In joy of voice and pinion,
And this is thy dominion.
While Birds, and Butterflies, and Flowers
Art sole in thy employment;
Thyself thy own enjoyment;
Upon yon tuft of hazel trees,
Yet seeming still to hover;
That cover him all over.
While thus before my eyes he gleams, A Brother of the Leaves he seems; When in a moment forth he teema
His little song in gushes: As if it pleas'd him to disdain And mock the Form which he did feign, While he was dancing with the train
Of Leaves among the bushes.
TO A YOUNG LADY,
Who had been reproached for taking long
Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!
—There is a nest in a green dale,
A harbour and a hold,
Where thou a Wife and Friend, shalt see
Thy own delightful days, and be
A light to young and old.
There, healthy as a Shepherd-boy,
As if thy heritage were joy,
And pleasure were thy trade,
Thou, while thy Babes around thee cling,
Shalt shew us how divine a thing
A Woman may be made.