I breakfast on my roof at morn
When to my ear her voice is borne—
When swinging from the mountain side,
She chirps her song in all her pride.
Thy nest is dewed with summer showers;
Basil, narcissus, lotus flowers,
Enamel it, and breathe to thee
Perfumes of immortality.
Soft feathers all thy body deck,
Small is thy beak, and long thy neck.