On light little wings as the humming-birds fly,
With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,
Suspended in ether, they shine to the light
As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.
Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small
They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall,
Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem
Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.
The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so,
Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.