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THE REDBREAST AND THE BUTTERFLY.
Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best,
Our little English Robin;
Their Thomas in Finland,
And Russia far inland?
If the Butterfly knew but his friend,
* See Paradise Lost, Book XL, where Adam points out to Eve the ominous sign of the Eagle chasing " two Birds of gayest plume," and the gentle Hart and Hind pursued by their enemy.
And find his way to me Under the branches of the tree:In and out, he darts about;Can this be the Bird, to man so good, That, after their bewildering, Did cover with leaves the little children, So painfully in the wood? .
What ailed thee, Robin, that thou could'st pursue
A beautiful Creature,
With little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee,
For thou art worthy,
Which Love makes for thee!
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similies,
Loose types of Things through all degrees,
Thoughts of thy raising:
While I am gazing.
A Nun demure, of lowly port;
Or sprightly Maiden, of Love's Court,
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations;
A little Cyclops, with one eye
Staring to threaten and defy,
That thought comes next — and instantly
The freak is over, The shape will vanish, and behold; A silver Shield with boss of gold, That spreads itself, some Faery bold
In fight to cover!
I see thee glittering from afar; —
In heaven above thee!