One Morning in the Spring I Sate

One morning in the spring I sate
Kicking my heels upon a gate,
The birds were singing all around,
And cowslips sunn'd the sheeny ground,
And next to me above the post
A certain shrub its branches tost,
Seeming to whisper in my ear,
" Have you no song for her so dear?"
Now never in my life could I
Write at command; I know not why.
I tried to write; I tried in vain;
The little birds, to mock my pain,
Sang cheerily; and every note
Seem'd rushing from a clearer throat.
I was half mad to think that they
-S o easily should win the day.
The slender shrub I thought held down
Its head to whisper " What a clown!"
Stung by its touch and its reproof,
And saying, " Keep your thorns aloof,"
Unconsciously I spoke the name,
And verses in full chorus came.