She was a Phantom of delight To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; I saw her upon nearer view, Her household motions light and free, A countenance in which did meet For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light. The REDBREAST and the BUTTERFLY. Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best, The Bird that comes about our doors Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors? And Russia far inland? The Bird, whom by some name or other All men who know thee call their Brother, The Darling of Children and men? Could Father Adam open his eyes, And see this sight beneath the skies,. He'd wish to close them again. If the Butterfly knew but his friend Hither his flight he would bend, And find his way to me Under the branches of the tree: In and out, he darts about; His little heart is throbbing: Can this be the Bird, to man so good, Our consecrated Robin! That, after their bewildering, Did cover with leaves the little children, What ail'd thee Robin that thou could'st pursue A beautiful Creature, That is gentle by nature? Beneath the summer sky From flower to flower let him fly; 'Tis all that he wishes to do. The Chearer Thou of our in-door sadness, What hinders, then, that ye should be His beautiful wings in crimson are drest, |