APPENDIX 



229 



When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, 



And autumn slow enters so silent and sallow; 

 And millions of warblers, that charmed lis before, 



Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow — 

 The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home, 



Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow; 

 Till, forced by the horrors of winter to roam, 



He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow. 



While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm, 



The green face of earth and the pure blue of heaven; 

 Or love's native music have influence to charm, 



Or sympathy's glow to our feelings are given — 

 Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be; 



His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure; 

 For through bleakest storms, if a calm he but see, 



He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure. 



THE FLORIDA IBIS 

 The Southern Cross uplifts one glowing star 

 Between the horizon and the Gulf afar; 

 I watch the light from the lone river bar, 

 And gaze across the sea — 



A sea on which a hundred sunsets glow, 

 Whose tides around a hundred islands flow, 

 Where lies the sky above in deeps below — 

 A shadow falls on me. 



Has heaven opened? — do evangels fly, 

 As in the prophet's heaven, across the sky? 

 A hundred silver wings now fill my eye, 

 A cloud of wings, as one. 



