And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
The kitten playing with the fallen leaves charms him with pure merriment. The skylark’s song lifts him up into the clouds.
“There is madness about thee, and joy divine
In that song of thine.”
He turns from the nightingale, that creature of a “fiery heart,” to the Stock-dove:
“He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song—the song for me.”