Did you see the plumage wave
O’er Florio’s brow? What grace it gave!
Yes, upon that festive night
I remark’d that feather light,
And heard the words that Floria said
To each attentive list’ning maid;
But how much lighter were those words
Than feathers of the gayest birds!
Than, dust, or air, more light than either
Was the wearer of the feather!
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
Men’s words are air, and flatt’ry but a breath
That breath’s contagion, & that air is death!
Clytia