The Mocking-Bird 



Superb and sole, upon a plumed spray 



l^hat o'er the general leafage boldly grew. 



He summed the woods in song; or typic drew 



The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay 



Of languid doves when long their lovers stray. 



And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew 



At morn in brake or bosky avenue. 



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 



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



Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain: 



How may the death of that dull insert be 



The life of yon trim Shakspere on the tree ? 



