Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/173

And if at first it oft is missed,
'Tis mastered soon, and on the wrist
Secured with filmy horse-hair twist!
Rhymes in print can fly no more.

I've done this frivolous work of old
For my favourite prized as gold,
Though sometimes when most firm my hold
Sudden it darts and flies away;
But then through window open wide,
Swift from roofs where sparrows hide,
Sudden again 'tis at my side,
Repentant to have gone astray.

Rarely does it long rebel,
Soon as my lips pronounce the spell
'Come my beauty, all is well,'
Down it flutters at my voice,
And exempt from every fear,
Sweet and gentle, perches near,
On my finger hops, or clear
Sings a song that bids rejoice.

Rhymes of every shape and kind
Come upon each passing wind,
Through the door or half-shut blind,
Soft, soft and softer drumming;
One might say legerdemain
When they thus upon me rain,
Giddy, giddy feels my brain
But to hear them humming.

What a swarm! And more, and more,
Hornets that above me soar,