Explore "The Lover and Birds" by William Allingham on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Within a budding grove, / In April's ear sang every bird his best, / But not a song to pleasure my unrest, / Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love; / Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest. / To every word / Of every bird / I listen'd, and replied as it behove.
Scream'd Chaffinch, 'Sweet, sweet, sweet! / Pretty lovey, come and meet me here!' / 'Chaffinch,' quoth I, 'be dumb awhile, in fear / Thy darling prove no better than a cheat, / And never come, or fly when wintry days appear.' / Yet from a twig, / With voice so big, / The little fowl his utterance did repeat.