IS it a monster bee, Or is it a midget bird, Or yet an air-born mystery That now the marigold has stirred, And now on vocal wing To a neighbor bloom is whirred, In an aery ecstasy, in a passion of pilfering? Ah! 'tis the humming-bird, Rich-coated one, Ruby-throated one, That is not chosen for song, But throws its whole rapt sprite Into the secrets of flowers The summer days along, Into most odorous hours, Into a murmurous sound of wings too swift for sight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON MUSIC by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: THE MARSHES OF GLYNN by SIDNEY LANIER THE TWO FIRES by JOSEPH BEAUMONT WILD ROSES AND SNOW by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: SEVENTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |