BENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed <br />Their snow-white blossoms on my head, <br />With brightest sunshine round me spread <br /> Of spring's unclouded weather, <br />In this sequestered nook how sweet <br />To sit upon my orchard-seat! <br />And birds and flowers once more to greet, <br /> My last year's friends together. <br /> <br />One have I marked, the happiest guest <br />In all this covert of the blest: <br />Hail to Thee, far above the rest <br /> In joy of voice and pinion! <br />Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, <br />Presiding Spirit here today, <br />Dost lead the revels of the May; <br /> And this is thy dominion. <br /> <br />While bird, and butterflies, and flowers, <br />Make all one band of paramours, <br />Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, <br /> Art sole in thy employment: <br />A Life, a Presence like the Air, <br />Scattering thy gladness without care, <br />Too blest with any one to pair; <br /> Thyself thy own enjoyment. <br /> <br />Amid yon tuft of hazel trees, <br />That twinkle to the gusty breeze, <br />Behold him perched in ecstasies, <br /> Yet seeming still to hover; <br />There! where the flutter of his wings <br />Upon his back and body flings <br />Shadows and sunny glimmerings, <br /> That cover him all over. <br /> <br />My dazzled sight he oft deceives, <br />A Brother of the dancing leaves; <br />Then flits, and from the cottage eaves <br /> Pours forth his song in gushes; <br />As if by that exulting strain <br />He mocked and treated with disdain <br />The voiceless Form he chose to feign, <br /> While fluttering in the bushes.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-green-linnet/
