Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's <br />Soft and soul-melting murmurings, <br />Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew <br />A Robin-red-breast; who at view, <br />Not seeing her at all to stir, <br />Brought leaves and moss to cover her: <br />But while he, perking, there did pry <br />About the arch of either eye, <br />The lid began to let out day,-- <br />At which poor Robin flew away; <br />And seeing her not dead, but all disleaved, <br />He chirpt for joy, to see himself deceived.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/upon-mrs-eliz-wheeler-under-the-name-ofamarillis/
