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!