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Upon yon tuft of hazel trees,That twinkle to the gusty breeze,Behold him perch'd in ecstasies,Yet seeming still to hover;There! where the flutter of his wingsUpon his back and body flingsShadows and sunny glimmerings,That cover him all over.
While thus before my eyes he gleams,A Brother of the Leaves he seems;When in a moment forth he teemsHis little song in gushes:As if it pleas'd him to disdainAnd mock the Form which he did feign,While he was dancing with the trainOf Leaves among the bushes.
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