THE humming-bird! the humming-bird!
So fairy-like and bright;
It lives amongst the sunny flowers,
A creature of delight!
In the radiant islands of the East,
Where fragrant spices grow,
A thousand thousand humming-birds
Go glancing to and fro.
Like living fires they flit about,
Scarce larger than a bee,
Amongst the broad palmetto leaves,
And through the fan-palm tree.
There builds her nest the humming-bird,
Within the ancient wood,
Her nest of silky cotton-down,
And rears her tiny brood.
She hangs it to a slender twig,
Where it waves light and free,
As the campanero tolls his song
While rocks the mighty tree.
All crimson is her shining breast,
Like to the red, red rose;
Her wing is the changeful green and blue
That the neck of the peacock shows.
Thou happy, happy humming-bird,
No winter round thee lowers;
Thou never saw’st a leafl ess tree,
Nor land without sweet fl owers:
A reign of summer joyfulness
To thee for life is given;
Thy food the honey from the fl ower,
Thy drink the dew from heaven!
—MARY HOWITT
fai´-ry-like thou´-sand change´-ful sum´-mer spic´-es
sun´-ny crim´-son pea´-cock joy´-ful-ness liv´-ing
isl´-ands shin´-ing leaf´-less hon´-ey hap´-py