The music of its liquid feet!
A bird’s bright glance on me he bent,—
A bird’s glance, fearless yet discreet;
As who might say, “This roundelay
Of liquid joy I can repeat!”
The mimic carol done, once more
He needs must try its measures sweet;—
Again, again, that rippling strain
My songbird did repeat, repeat!
Since then I’ve learned that human breasts