If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy, ′′Pompeii′′!
To the Hills return!
Dust is the only Secret.
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his ′′native town.′′
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his ′′native town.′′
Nobody knew ′′his Father′′ –
Never was a Boy –
Had′nt any playmates,
Or ′′Early history′′ –
Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!
¦
Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest –
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!
I’m the little ′′Heart’s Ease′′ !
I dont care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?
If the Coward Bumble Bee
In his chimney corner stay,
I, must resoluter be!
Who′ll apologize for me?
Dear – Old fashioned, little flower!
Eden is old fashioned, too!
Birds are antiquated fellows!
Heaven does not change her blue.