To ----: “Wait, Prithee, Wait!” This Answer Lesbia Threw

“Wait, prithee, wait!” this answer Lesbia threw
Forth to her Dove, and took no further heed.
Her eye was busy, while her fingers flew
Across the harp, with soul-engrossing speed;
But from that bondage when her thoughts were freed
She rose, and toward the close-shut casement drew,
Whence the poor unregarded Favourite, true
To old affections, had been heard to plead
With flapping wing for entrance. What a shriek
Forced from that voice so lately tuned to a strain
Of harmony!----a shriek of terror, pain,
And self-reproach! for, from aloft, a Kite
Pounced,----and the Dove, which from its ruthless beak
She could not rescue, perished in her sight!