LINES ON A LITTLE BIRDSinging at the Window of the Author,SOON AFTER THE DEATH OF A BELOVED SISTER.Go, little flutt’rer! seek thy feather’d loves,And leave a wretched mourner to his woe;Seek out the bow’rs of bliss, seek happier groves,Nor here unheeded let thy music flow.Yet think me not ungrateful for thy song,If meant to cheer me in my lone retreat;Ah! not to thee, my little friend! belongThe pow’rs to soothe the pangs of adverse fate.Fly, then! the window of the wretched, fly!And be thy harmless life for ever blest;I only can reward thee with a sigh,And wish that joys may crown thy peaceful nest.
Singing at the Window of the Author,
Go, little flutt’rer! seek thy feather’d loves,And leave a wretched mourner to his woe;Seek out the bow’rs of bliss, seek happier groves,Nor here unheeded let thy music flow.Yet think me not ungrateful for thy song,If meant to cheer me in my lone retreat;Ah! not to thee, my little friend! belongThe pow’rs to soothe the pangs of adverse fate.Fly, then! the window of the wretched, fly!And be thy harmless life for ever blest;I only can reward thee with a sigh,And wish that joys may crown thy peaceful nest.