There's something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast --
And will not tell its name.
Some touch it, and some kiss it --
Some chafe1 its idle hand --
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!
I would not weep if I were they --
How rude in one to sob2!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!
While simple-hearted neighbors
Chat of the Early dead --
We -- prone3 to periphrasis
Remark that Birds have fled!