Classic Poem

Curious , witching, magic thing,
Etherial beauteous being;
Tell me, hast thou lost thy way,
Little feathery spirit, say!
Art thou seeking here to find
Shelter from the chilly wind?

Or did'st thou know 't was winter near
That whistled in the blast so drear,
And striving on thy gauzy wing
In vain to find another spring,
Hither, wearied in despair,
Dost thou come to claim my care?

Oh, 't is rapture thus to see thee,
In the flower-cup which I hold thee,
Thrust thy long beak its sweets to sip,
Which seems to close its fragrant lip
Thy sweet fairy head to kiss,
And thus share with thee the bliss.

Thy confidence has won my heart,
Sweet bird, and I am loath to part
With thee; to shelter thee from harm
To give thee food, and keep thee warm,
Through the chilly winter drear,
Would be to me a task most dear.

But, if my tender care for thee
Were vain, and I were doomed to see
Thy slender wing drooping in death,
To catch thy little dying breath,
My sighs would sound thy parting knell:
I have no sighs to spare—farewell.

Fly, sweet bird, I fear to love thee;
Lovely creature, fly and leave me:
Too well I love the joys I own,
Too deeply mourn for blessings gone:
Should I sigh thy parting knell,
My heart would ache—so fare thee well.