But no sweet songster could be found.
It was my own Canary bird,
Whose faint, receding notes I heard;
He breathed “farewell” in every tone—
The cage was there—the bird had flown!
A beauteous, meek eyed, carrier dove
Came flying with the speed of love;
I caught, and kiss’d him o’er and o’er,
I knew the bird a letter bore;
I broke the seal with eager hand,