The Bird

A-floatlüítj a-floaüng, ' . Across tïe sleeping se. All nigbt I hear a singing Wrd l'pon Ihe topmost tree. "Oh, carne you f rom the isles of Greeos Or from the banks oí Seine, Or off some tree in foresta freo That fringe the western maln?" "I carne not off the old world. Nor yet from oñ the new. But I am one of the birds of God Wliich sing the whole night through."