And Willie 'gan sing (oh, his notes were fluty;
Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea)—
Something made up of rhymes that have done much duty,
Rhymes (better to put it) of "ancientry:"
Bowers of flowers encounter'd showers
In William's carol—(O love my Willie!)
Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe to-morrow
I quite forget what—say a daffodilly:
A nest in a hollow, "with buds to follow,"
I think occurred next in his nimble strain;