Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see,
God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting
Of indigo and brown.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he
To some superior
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to
But his seraphic self!
