For wren and redbreast,—where they sit and sing
Their slender ditties when the trees are bare.
Nor must I leave untouched (the picture else
Were incomplete) a relique of old times[792]
Happily spared, a little Gothic niche
Of nicest workmanship; that[793] once had held
The sculptured image of some patron-saint,
Or of the blessed Virgin, looking down
On all who entered those religious doors.
But lo! where from the cocky garden-mount