Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/94

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Take that singing bird away! It has too glad a lay For an ear so lorn as mine! And its wings are all too light, And its feathers all too bright, To rest in a bosom like mine!

But bring that bird again When winter has changed its strain: Its pining will be sweet to me When soil and stain are on its breast, And its pinions droop for rest;— Oh, then, bring that bird to me!