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

140 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,