All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of ′′Currer Bell′′
In quiet ′′Haworth′′ laid.
This Bird – observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes –
Quietly did the same –
But differed in returning –
Since Yorkshire hills are green –
Yet not in all the nests I meet –
Can Nightingale be seen –
Or –
Gathered from many wanderings –
Gethsemane can tell
Thro′ what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
¦
Soft fall the sounds of Eden
Opon her puzzled ear –
Oh what an afternoon for
Heaven,
When ′′Bronte′′ entered there!
A science – so the Savans say,
′′Comparative Anatomy″ –
By which a single bone –
Is made a secret to unfold
Of some rare tenant of the mold –
Else perished in the stone –
So to the eye prospective led,
This meekest flower of the mead
Opon a winter′s day,
Stands representative in gold
Of Rose and Lily, manifold,
And countless Butterfly!