Wherever it listeth there to flee:
To go, when a joyful fancy calls,
Dashing down, 'mong the waterfalls;
Then wheeling about, with its mates at play,
Above and below, and among the spray,
Hither and thither, with screams as wild
As the laughing mirth of a rosy child!
What a joy it must be, like a living breeze,
To flutter among the flowering trees;
Lightly to soar, and to see beneath,