Taste with as many hues doth hearts engage
As leaves & flowers do upon natures page
Not man alone the instinctive mood declares
But birds & flowers & insects are its heirs
Taste is their joyous heritage & they
All chuse for joy in a peculiar way
Birds own it in the varied spots they chuse
Some live content in low grass gemmed with dews
Others in little bushes love to be
While some like cradles rock on highest tree
& the bold eagle which mans fear ensh[r]ouds
Would could he lodge it build on floating clouds
While little Wren mistrusting none that come
In each low hovel meets a sheltered home.
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