Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/321

261

thou the Bird whom Man loves best,

The pious Bird with the scarlet breast,

Our little English Robin;

The Bird that comes about our doors

When Autumn winds are sobbing?

Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors?

Their Thomas in Finland,

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;