Oliver Cummings Farrington.
THE BIRTH OF THE HUMMINGBIRD.
It was born in a valley of violets
Where bird and flower for its favor vied,
Its father a poppy gone stark mad,
Its mother a reckless honey bee,
(True child of such startling pedigree)
Its cradle a sunbeam glorified.
It was bathed in a dewdrop morn by morn
And when the time for the christening came,