Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel –
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As ’twere a travelling Mill –
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose –
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,
Till every spice is tasted –
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres –
And I rejoin my Dog,
And He and I, perplex us
If positive, ’twere we –
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity –
But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye –
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!