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ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST. *
TREAD lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
* Inscribed on an urn in the flower-garden at Hafod.
DEAR is my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale
To every passing villager.
The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,
In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,
The shepherd's horn at break of day,
TO THE BUTTERFLY.
CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,
-Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept
On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept.
And such is man; soon from his cell of clay