Of every bird

I listen'd, and replied as it behove.

Scream'd Chaffinch, 'Sweet, sweet, sweet!

Pretty lovey, come and meet me here!'

'Chaffinch,' quoth I, 'be dumb awhile, in fear

Thy darling prove no better than a cheat,

And never come, or fly when wintry days appear.'

Yet from a twig,

With voice so big,

The little fowl his utterance did repeat.

[29]

Then I, 'The man forlorn

Hears Earth send up a foolish noise aloft.'

'And what'll he do? What'll he do?' scoff'd

The Blackbird, standing, in an ancient thorn,

Then spread his sooty wings and flitted to the croft

With cackling laugh;

Whom I, being half

Enraged, called after, giving back his scorn.

Worse mock'd the Thrush, 'Die! die!

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