Избранная лирика

                       Над желтым наклонясь цветком,
                       Тобой, малюткой-мотыльком,
                       Я любовался и не знал,
                       Нектар вкушал ты или спал.
                       И был ты неподвижней вод
                                    объятых льдом морей.
                       Счастливым будет ли полет,
                       Когда внезапный ветр найдет
                                     тебя среди ветвей?

                       Останься с нами! Мы с сестрой

                       Тебе подарим садик свой.
                       Здесь отдохнут твои крыла.
                       Тебе не причиним мы зла!
                       Будь гостем нашим дорогим,
                              присядь на куст близ нас.
                       О детских днях поговорим,
                       Их летний свет неповторим,
                       И каждый долгим был — таким,
                               как двадцать дней сейчас.

THE GREEN LINNET

                 Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
                 Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
                 With brightest sunshine round me spread
                    Of spring's unclouded weather,
                 In this sequestered nook how sweet
                 To sit upon my orchard-seat!
                 And birds and flowers once more to greet,
                    My last year's friends together.

                 One have I marked, the happiest guest

                 In all this covert of the blest:.
                 Hail to Thee, for above the rest
                    In joy of voice and pinion!
                 Thou, Linnet! in thy green array,
                 Presiding Spirit here to-day,
                 Dost lead the revels of the May;
                    And this is thy dominion.

                 While birds, aid butterflies, and flowers,

                 Make all one band of paramours,
                 Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,
                    Art sole in thy employment:
                 A Life, a Presence like the Air,
                 Scattering thy gladness without care,
                 Too blest with any one to pair;
                    Thyself thy own enjoyment.

                 Amid yon tuft of hazel trees,

                 That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
                 Behold him perched in ecstasies,
                    Yet seeming still to hover;
                 There! where the flutter of his wings
                 Upon his back and body flings
                 Shadows and sunny glimmerings,
                    That cover him all over.

                 My dazzled sight he oft deceives,

                 A Brother of the dancing leaves;
                 Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves
                    Pours forth his song in gushes;
                 As if by that exulting strain
                 He mocked and treated with disdain
                 The voiceless Form he chose to feign,
                    While fluttering in the bushes.

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