 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Humming-Bird
I cannot heal that green gold breast,
Where deep those cruel teeth have prest,
Nor bid thee rear that ruffled crest,
And seek thy mate,
Who sits alone within his nest,
Nor sees thy fate.
Where deep those cruel teeth have prest,
Nor bid thee rear that ruffled crest,
And seek thy mate,
Who sits alone within his nest,
Nor sees thy fate.
No more with him, in summer hours,
Thou'lt hum amid the leafy bowers,
Nor sip at morn the dewy flowers
To feed thy young,
Nor seek, when evening darkly lowers,
Thy nest high-hung.
Thou'lt hum amid the leafy bowers,
Nor sip at morn the dewy flowers
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Nor seek, when evening darkly lowers,
Thy nest high-hung.
No more thou'lt know a mother's care,
The honied spoils at eve to share,
Nor teach thy tender brood to dare
With upward spring
Their path through sunny fields of air,
On new-fledged wing.
The honied spoils at eve to share,
Nor teach thy tender brood to dare
With upward spring
Their path through sunny fields of air,
On new-fledged wing.
For thy return in vain shall wait
Thy tender young, thy fond, fond mate,
Till night's last stars beam forth full late
On their sad eyes;
Unseen alas! thy cruel fate!
Unheard thy cries!
Thy tender young, thy fond, fond mate,
Till night's last stars beam forth full late
On their sad eyes;
Unseen alas! thy cruel fate!
Unheard thy cries!
Poem No. 220; 1 August 1835
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |