Anon, as patient as the female dove When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

. . . The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, . . .

I heard a Stock-dove sing or say His homely tale, this very day; His voice was buried among trees, Yet to be come at by the breeze: He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed: And somewhat pensively he wooed: He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,--the song for me!

Don't cry while you are reading the book wait until you are done reading it.

And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.