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Article NIGHT THOUGHTS, ← Page 2 of 2
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Night Thoughts,
AVhen my own little home I would enter , How the joy I should prize , With my small blinking eyes , To avoid the sun ' s power , In my own shady bower : — Or bore my way down to the centre .
But I envy the flight of the Bird more than either , As stately he rises , To the sky that he prizes , Ami cleaves the pure ether , With no sad retrospections Embittering my lot—¦
I'd away from the palace , And dwell by the cot ; And peep into the lattice Of cherry-cheeked Patties ; And indulge me in sips Of their fresh , plummy lips ; And dress my gay plumage—and chirrup and sing , Till the sportsman appearing—I'd hasten and bring All the falcons and sharp-beaked birds with my cries , And tear from the sockets his murderous eyes .
I'd transform me once more , to him—hight Salamander , Who in the roaring hot furnace himself finds in clover , All glare , and fervour , and metal-dissolving itttenseness ; And here would I joyously roll myself over and over , AYith basking delight . And the pale sunny light , Which illumines the earth and imbues vegetation
, Would despise ; For my eyes Would exult in the glow of my own habitation : — And my good friend the cricket Should sit at my wicket , In the cleft in the wall which the heat made to sever , With his chirping house-warming to cheer me for ever !
As I can ' t take these flights , yet I will not repine ; Though unaided by spirits , disdaining to whine . E . B .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Night Thoughts,
AVhen my own little home I would enter , How the joy I should prize , With my small blinking eyes , To avoid the sun ' s power , In my own shady bower : — Or bore my way down to the centre .
But I envy the flight of the Bird more than either , As stately he rises , To the sky that he prizes , Ami cleaves the pure ether , With no sad retrospections Embittering my lot—¦
I'd away from the palace , And dwell by the cot ; And peep into the lattice Of cherry-cheeked Patties ; And indulge me in sips Of their fresh , plummy lips ; And dress my gay plumage—and chirrup and sing , Till the sportsman appearing—I'd hasten and bring All the falcons and sharp-beaked birds with my cries , And tear from the sockets his murderous eyes .
I'd transform me once more , to him—hight Salamander , Who in the roaring hot furnace himself finds in clover , All glare , and fervour , and metal-dissolving itttenseness ; And here would I joyously roll myself over and over , AYith basking delight . And the pale sunny light , Which illumines the earth and imbues vegetation
, Would despise ; For my eyes Would exult in the glow of my own habitation : — And my good friend the cricket Should sit at my wicket , In the cleft in the wall which the heat made to sever , With his chirping house-warming to cheer me for ever !
As I can ' t take these flights , yet I will not repine ; Though unaided by spirits , disdaining to whine . E . B .