Yellow moon, windy sunshine, and skies cold and blue?
Or, if thy man’s heart worketh in thee at all,
Perchance thou wouldst dwell by some bold baron’s hall;
A black, glossy rook, working early and late,
Like a laboring man on the baron’s estate?
Or a linnet, who builds in the close hawthorn bough,
Where her small, frightened eyes may be seen looking through;
Who heeds not, fond mother! the oxlips that shine
On the hedge banks beneath, or the glazed celandine?
Or a swallow that flieth the sunny world over,