Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's
Soft and soul-melting murmurings,
Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew
A Robin-red-breast; who at view,
Not seeing her at all to stir,
Brought leaves and moss to cover her:
But while he, perking, there did pry
About the arch of either eye,
The lid began to let out day,--
At which poor Robin flew away;
And seeing her not dead, but all disleaved,
He chirpt for joy, to see himself deceived. 

Added: Jun 8 2005 | Viewed: 320 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Robert Herrick
Poem: UPON MRS ELIZ. WHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OFAMARILLIS

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