The Peacock’s Train.
The peacock spreads his brilliant train,
And struts about with pride,
No other bird seems quite so vain,
In all the regions wide.
Each plume is like a sparkling gem,
Of rich and radiant dyes;
Some cherub must have painted them,
And all those shining eyes.
And if I had as fine a gown
As his, upon my word
I’d strut a little, up and down;
And be as vain a bird.
