Upon Mrs. Elizabeth Wheeler, under the Name of Amarillis
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring'sSoft and soul-melting murmurings,Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flewA Robin-red-breast; who at view,Not seeing her at all to stir,Brought leaves and moss to cover her:But while he, perking, there did pryAbout 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 chirpt for joy, to see himself deceived.
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