Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834)

A SUNNY shaft did I behold,

From sky to earth it slanted:

And poised therein a bird so bold—

Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!

He sunk, he rose, he twinkled, he troll’d

Within that shaft of sunny mist;

His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,

All else of amethyst!

And thus he sang: ‘Adieu! adieu!

Love’s dreams prove seldom true.

The blossoms they make no delay:

The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.

Sweet month of May,

We must away;

Far, far away!

To-day! to-day!’