But not in garb of regal cost
Are Virtue’s children always seen.
Ah, no, sweet bird! in lowly guise
Her fairest child is oftenest met;
And seldom knows thy cloudless skies,
Or path with flowers so richly set.
When summer buds are bright and gay
I fly the city’s dull confines,
And love to sport the hours away
By sedgy streams and leafy shrines.