HUMMING BIRDS. THE insect birds that suck nectareous juice I have but seen their feathers,—that is all. Sweet wind, surcharged with treasures fair as these, I may not feel:-I never may behold The spark of life, that trimm'd in garb so bright That flying quintessence of ruby, gold, Mild emerald, and lucid chrysolite. Yet am I glad that life and joy were there, That the small creature was as blithe as fair. VOL. II. G THE CRICKET. The Naturalist of the Supplement to the British Almanack tells me that Crickets rusticate in Summer, and return to their firesides in Winter. I would I knew this for a fact. Αποσπάσματα φύσικα.—1843. WHERE art thou, merry whistler of the hearth? What time the grate is stuff'd with arid moss, I miss thy shrill monotony of mirth, And do not love the bar's ferruginous gloss, When summer nights are blinking-dark and cold, And the dim taper cheerless to behold. I thought thee sleeping in some cranny snug, Till earlier night bids shake the lazy rug, But thou hast left thy ashy winter mansion If I should see thee in thy summer dress, The love I have not, but revere no less, Of the wide summer, and the ample air. LINES WRITTEN OPPOSITE A DRAWING OF A PARROT AND BUTTERFLY. BRIGHT creatures are ye, bird and butterfly, Who work'd below, his " 'prentice hand to try," Then, breathing upwards, first essay'd the rose, Then would the gilded fly its wings disclose, But brightest gems would murmur, if they might, Sweet words, by sweeter lips made doubly sweet. |