 | Epigrams of art, life, and nature |  |
LXXXVII. TO A SEABIRD.
Fain would I have thee barter fates with me—Lone loiterer where the shells like jewels be,
Hung on the fringe and fray'd hem of the sea.
But no!—'twere cruel, white-wing'd Bliss! to thee.
| Epigrams of art, life, and nature | |