The bird of needle beak, and breast

The bird of needle beak, and breast
Of orange flame, doth weave its nest
At tip of branch, a cradle swinging
To all the airs of the south and west.

Who schooled thy needle to begin
Its forth and back and out and in,
Till plaited cot, a gourd-like pendant,
Shall temper winds to thy first of kin?

Thy sun-bright mate, his joy to prove,
Flutes sweet his ardors from above.
O golden robin, skyey-nested,
Thou rockest safe in the arms of Love.