O bird, that used to press, <br />Thy head against my cheek <br />With touch that seem'd to speak, <br />And ask a tender 'yes' - <br />Ay de mi, my bird: <br />Ay de mi, my bird, my bird - <br />Ay de mi, my bird. <br /> <br />O tender downy breast, <br />And warmly beating heart, <br />That beating seem'd a part <br />Of me who gave it rest - <br />Ay de mi, my bird: <br />Ay de mi, my bird, my bird - <br />Ay de mi, my bird.<br /><br />George Eliot<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ay-de-mi/
