(I will begin) sweet birds, whose flowery songs
Sprinkle with joy the budding boughs above,
The airy city where your light folk throngs,
Each with his special exquisite of love,—
Red-throat and white-throat, finch and golden-crest,
Deep-murmuring pigeon, and soft-cooing dove,—
Unto his mate addrest, that close in nest
Sits on the dun and dappled eggs all day.
Come red-throat, white-throat, finch and golden-crest,
Let not our merry play drive you away.