William Allingham (1824–1889)

“BIRDIE, Birdie, will you, pet?

Summer is far and far away yet.

You’ll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,

And a pillow of satin for your head.”

“I’d rather sleep in the ivy wall:

No rain comes through, though I hear it fall;

The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,

And I sing, and wing away, away!”

“O Birdie, Birdie, will you, pet?

Diamond stones and amber and jet

We’ll string on a necklace fair and fine,

To please this pretty bird of mine.”

“Oh! thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet;

But here is something daintier yet,—

A feather necklace, round and round,

That I would not sell for a thousand pound!”

“O Birdie, Birdie, won’t you, pet?

We’ll buy you a dish of silver fret,

A golden cup and an ivory seat,

And carpets soft beneath your feet.”

“Can running water be drunk from gold?

Can a silver dish the forest hold?

A rocking twig is the finest chair,

And the softest paths lie through the air:

Good-by, good-by, to my lady fair.”