Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel - Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As 'twere a travelling Mill - He never stops, but slackens Above the Ripest Rose - Partakes without alighting And praises as he goes,
Till every spice is tasted - And then his Fairy Gig Reels in remoter atmospheres - And I rejoin my Dog,
And He and I, perplex us If positive, 'twere we - Or bore the Garden in the Brain This Curiosity -
But He, the best Logician, Refers my clumsy eye - To just vibrating Blossoms! An Exquisite Reply!
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