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102
THE DESPOILED HUMMING-BIRD.
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Written on receiving Humming-Bird's nest, sent by a friend from a neighbouring State. It was covered with moss, and still attached to a piece of the twig on which it was built. Being so formed as to look like a part of the branch of a fruit-tree, which a lad was pruning, it was not perceived by him, till he saw the little white eggs rolling out of it into a rivulet, over which the bough fell.
Alas! pretty rover,
Thy joys are all over;
For gone is thy soft downy nest from the tree.
With fond bosom yearning
Thou 'lt seek it, returning;
But, poor little Birdie! thy nest is with me.
Thy joys are all over;
For gone is thy soft downy nest from the tree.
With fond bosom yearning
Thou 'lt seek it, returning;
But, poor little Birdie! thy nest is with me.
Yet not of my doing
This deed for thy ruing,
Which leaves thee in anguish thy home to deplore;
While blessing the donor,
I grieve for the owner,
And fain to its bough would thy building restore.
This deed for thy ruing,
Which leaves thee in anguish thy home to deplore;
While blessing the donor,
I grieve for the owner,
And fain to its bough would thy building restore.
I fancy thee coming,
With light pinions humming,
Where tiny white gems thy soft cell had impearled,
To mourn without measure
Thy rest and thy treasure;
For ah! they are gone,—and that home was thy world.
With light pinions humming,
Where tiny white gems thy soft cell had impearled,
To mourn without measure
Thy rest and thy treasure;
For ah! they are gone,—and that home was thy world.
103
Yet, hadst thou forsaken
The nest that was taken,
And left it all empty and lone on the bough,
With joy at receiving
A house of thy leaving,
I never had felt for thee sorrow, as now.
The nest that was taken,
And left it all empty and lone on the bough,
With joy at receiving
A house of thy leaving,
I never had felt for thee sorrow, as now.
Then deem me not cruel,
But come, little jewel,
And follow the scent of thy house from the tree.
Whilst I can't replace it,
Perchance thou mayst trace it,
And find thy lost dwelling in quiet with me.
But come, little jewel,
And follow the scent of thy house from the tree.
Whilst I can't replace it,
Perchance thou mayst trace it,
And find thy lost dwelling in quiet with me.
No rudeness has marred it,
Nor falling has jarred it,
The twig of thy choosing is under it still;
Its thatching of mosses
And inlay of flosses
Are just as composed by thy labor and skill.
Nor falling has jarred it,
The twig of thy choosing is under it still;
Its thatching of mosses
And inlay of flosses
Are just as composed by thy labor and skill.
Thou only couldst form it;
Return then, and warm it
Again with thy breast, letting love banish fear;
So, when thou art coming
At eve from thy roaming,
Thou 'lt know, my dear Birdie, thy home still is here.
Return then, and warm it
Again with thy breast, letting love banish fear;
So, when thou art coming
At eve from thy roaming,
Thou 'lt know, my dear Birdie, thy home still is here.
The young flowerets blooming,
And sweetly perfuming
The pure air, invite thee to feed from their store;
The honey-cup 's filling,
And wilt thou be willing
To come and believe thou shalt mourn never more?
And sweetly perfuming
The pure air, invite thee to feed from their store;
The honey-cup 's filling,
And wilt thou be willing
To come and believe thou shalt mourn never more?
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