Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's
Soft and soul-melting a murmurings,
Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew
A Robin-redbreast, who at view,
Not seeing her at all to stir,
Brought leaves and moss to cover her;
But while he, perking, there did pry
About the arch of either eye,
The lid began to let out day,
At which poor Robin flew away;
And seeing her not dead but all disleaved,
He chirped for joy to see himself deceived.