To shamed rebellious passion?
'Tis a she-shape by Mode arrayed!
The dove that coos in verdant shade,
The lark that shrills in ether,
The humming-bird with jewelled wings,—
Ten thousand tiny songful things
Have lent her plume and feather.
They die in hordes that she may fly,
A glittering horror, through the sky.
Their voices, hushed in anguish,