MRS. MARY H. FLANNER,
Poet and Entertainer.
THE MOCKING-BIRD.
O, naught to me the nightingale,
Save as its exquisite harmony
Sings from Keats’ incomparable ode,
A hint—a dream-dipped memory.
But thou, sweet Mock-bird, art my own—
My very own.
And every tender, tinted tone