The Robin’s My Criterion For Tune

poem 285

The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune Because I grow where Robins do But, were I Cuckoo born I’d swear by him The ode familiar rules the Noon The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom Because, we’re Orchard sprung But, were I Britain born, I’d Daisies spurn None but the Nut October fit Because, through dropping it, The Seasons flit I’m taught Without the Snow’s Tableau Winter, were lie to me Because I see New Englandly The Queen, discerns like me Provincially