1107
The Bird did prance-the Bee did play-
The Sun ran miles away
So blind with joy he could not choose
Between his Holiday
The morn was up-the meadows out
The Fences all but ran,
Republic of Delight, I thought
Where each is Citizen-
From Heavy laden Lands to thee
Were seas to cross to come
A Caspian were crowded-
Too near thou art for Fame-