Amarillis, by a spring

Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's

Soft and soul-melting murmurings,

Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew

A 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 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 chirpt for joy, to see himself deceived.