by Pavel Chichikov
I gave my love three loving gifts:
A bird of Paradise to sing
A beetle with two golden wings
A fish of coral – these three gifts
On Jesus’ finger sits the first
And sings – the golden beetle flies
Above the night and never dies –
The swimmer never suffers thirst
And if these three be metaphor
They are made and solid be
To show what life the living see
When living Glory we adore
If this perfection that I give
Imperfect now can grow to live
It is by grace of form and sense –
Earths and air and oceans hence
