It did not surprise me—
So I said—or thought—
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,
Traverse broader forests—
Build in gayer boughs,
Breathe in Ear more modern
God’s old fashioned vows—
This was but a Birdling—
What and if it be
One within my bosom
Had departed me?
This was but a story—
What and if indeed
There were just such coffin
In the heart instead?
