2. SONG.
[HIS wings in terror clapping]
HERMAN.
HIS wings in terror clapping,
A little bird, last May,
Against my window flapping,
For shelter seem'd to pray.
With pity touch'd, I granted
The little bird's request;
It trembled, flutter'd, panted!
I sooth'd it on my breast.
Well pleas'd it seem'd to eye me:
I lov'd the pretty thing:
To keep it ever nigh me
I clipp'd each little wing.
But yet I thought, sincerely
To go it would be griev'd:
It seem'd to love me dearly:
And oh! too well deceiv'd,
Its wings by me neglected,
Again their feathers grew,
And ere I aught suspected
One morn away it flew,
Crying—“That yours the blame is,
Poor youth, too late you learn;
So sure as Love my name is
I never will return!”—
