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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