You chimed your song in tuneful curlicues 
Out from the thick bush; the dame you wooed 
Did not know how to voice her due reply: 
Muted, like a decoy, she held rapt— 
Then, tripping from twig to twig, she made to fly 
For shame; 
                     
But flapping, you set circling round her perch, 
Stopping at each apt branch to lilt away, 
Flashing your feathered raiments like a prince, 
Charming the morning, evening, and midday! 

She twitched in doubt; the heart within her fought 
Against such fuss and notice. Pfft! You dropped 
Tuck-winged right into her hiding-place— 
Then trilled a champion’s looped capriccio 

Until she got all caught up in its lace 
And breathed as one with it, this netlike song . . . 
Then, by and by, began to sing along!