Misconceptions
1812-1889
THIS is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
O, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,--
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!
This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrill'd in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love's regal dalmatic.
O, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on--
Love to be saved for it, proffer'd to, spent on!
DayPoems Poem No. 677
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/677.html">Misconceptions by Robert Browning</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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