(Though it sings for the most part under the rose),
That is petted and pampered wherever it goes,
And nourished in bosoms gentle and strong.
This petted bird has a crooked beak
And eyes like live coals set in its head,
A gray breast dappled with glowing red—
Dabbled—not dappled, I should have said,
From a fancy it has of which I shall speak.
This eccentricity that I name
Is, that whenever the bird would sing