Superb and sole, upon a plumed spray <br />That o'er the general leafage boldly grew, <br />He summ'd the woods in song; or typic drew <br />The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay <br />Of languid doves when long their lovers stray, <br />And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew <br />At morn in brake or bosky avenue. <br />Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say. <br />Then down he shot, bounced airily along <br />The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song <br />Midflight, perched, prinked, and to his art again. <br />Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain: <br />How may the death of that dull insect be <br />The life of yon trim Shakespeare on the tree?<br /><br />Sidney Lanier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mocking-bird/
