Poem by Robert Herrick

Upon Mrs Eliz. Wheeler, under the Name of Amarillis

Sweet Amarillis, by a spring's
Soft and soul-melting murmurings,
Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew
A Robin-red-breast; who at view,
Not seeing her at all to stir,
Brought leaves and moss to cover her:
But while he, perking, there did pry
About the arch of either eye,
The lid began to let out day,—
At which poor Robin flew away;
And seeing her not dead, but all disleaved,
He chirpt for joy, to see himself deceived.

1. To Primroses Filled with Morning Dew
2. The Present; or, The Bag of the Bee
3. The Primrose
4. The Lily in a Crystal
5. The Bag of the Bee

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