I rather hide in bonnet Before the strange cocoon That was subsided Down the brooch, To where the diamond. So many of the visitors Arriving by the door; Ten of them were riches, But all of them were poor.
O' marshes! Swallow up the gale Which farthest I could hear, Ne'er I belong such privilege By myrtle over there. Recollecting where the pod To whom I left behind, The continent, The humble swamps, Surpassing us again.