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 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.-1813. WHERE art thou, merry whistler of the hearth? 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, Then, breathing upwards, first essay'd the rose, Then would the gilded fly its wings disclose, Sweet words, by sweeter lips made doubly sweet. "When Messrs. Hawes and Fellowes ascended Mont Blanc in July, 1827, they observed a butterfly near the summit. Mr. C. Shewell saw two crimson moths at nearly the same elevation." WHO would have thought, upon this icy cliff, Nor foot of chamois sounded, To this exalted Thule, He carried the thought of a metaphysician, Who would have dream'd of seeing thee, Softest of summer's progeny? What art thou seeking? What hast thou lost? That before the throne of eternal frost Thou comest to spread the crimson wing, Art thou too fine for the world below? Or hast thou lived out thy joy and thy spring? And hast thou sworn To live forlorn An anchorite in a cave of snow, Or Palmer lonely wandering? |