Misconceptions by Robert Browning

This is a spray the bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,–
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love’s regal dalmatic. [1]
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on–
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!

NOTE

1. =Dalmatic=. A robe worn by mediaeval kings on solemn occasions, and still worn by deacons at the mass in the Roman Catholic church.

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