And waving kiss’d the gentle breeze,
And though it gave, appear’d still fair,
Still yielded nectar to the bees.
But blooming with uncommon pride,
And blushing with the rain-bow’s hue,
Upon the foliage by its side,
That glitter’d with the morning dew.
A fair that watch’d her fleecy flock
Beside the bending poplar shade,
And resting on a mossy rock,