THE HUMMING BIRD
IT comes! This strange bird from a distant clime
Has fled with arrowy speed on fluttering wing.
From the sweet south, all sick of revelling,
It wanders hitherward to rest a time,
And taste the hardy flora of the west.
And now, O joy! the urchins hear the mirth
Of its light wings, and crouch unto the earth
In watchful eagerness, contented, blest.
Bird of eternal summers! thou dost wake,