No twittering swallow skims the plain,
No shrite-cock tunes his echoing strain:[[32]]
Dumb are the full-plum’d songsters all,
Save the lone red-breast on my wall;
Thy tender lay, sweet bird, prolong,
And sooth old Winter with thy song!
When wintry mists obscure the skies,
His busy nose the spaniel plies,
Where mossy glades and thickets brown
Tempt the far-wandering wood-cock down: