Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say. 



Then down he shot, bounced airily along 



The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song 



Midnight, perched, prinked, and to his art again. 



Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain : 



How may the death of that dull insect be 



The life of yon trim Shakespeare, on the tree ? 



Sidney Lanier. 



