Draw deftly out from carded naught
Its first soft rainbow thread of thought,
My playmate true, delight and joy,
Was a tiny wingéd boy.
Nightly nestled in my breast,
His legends lulled me to my rest;
Thence his voice awakening gay
Trilled back the early linnet’s lay;
In the bird’s nest, in the tree,
By the purling rill sat he;