Fluttering, they move their weedy beds among,
Or, instant diving, hide their plumeless young.
Along the wall, returning from the town,
The weary rustic homeward wanders down;
Who stops and gazes at such joyous crew,
And feels his envy rising at the view;
He the light speech and laugh indignant hears,
And feels more press'd by want, more vex'd by fears.
Ah! go in peace, good fellow, to thine home,
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