I have a Poll parrot,
And Poll is my doll,
And my nurse is Polly,
And my sister Poll.
'Polly!' cried Polly,
'Don't tear Polly, dolly' -
While soft-hearted Poll
Trembled for the doll.
by Henry Clay Work
'Tis noon of night; the sable clouds,
Hang weeping in the sky;
Alone I sit, where fancies flit
Like spectral shadows by.
Me thinks I see familiar forms,