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128 
OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS, 
THE HUMMING BIRD. 
BY JOHN B. KAYE, 
Rare little bird of the bower! 
Bird of the musical wing 
While hiding thy head in some flower 
Softly thy green pinions sing. 
Sing like the harp of A#olus, 
Hum out each murmuring note 
With a charm having power to control us». 
As we watch thee suspended, afloat. 
Hid from the dull sight of mortals, 
Out of the reach of the bee 
Down through the lily’s white portals 
Nectar’s distilling for thee. 
Now at the thistle’s red tassel 
Probing with needle-like bill, 
Drinking a sweet, dreamy wassail. 
Humming thy melody still. 
Where the wild honey-bee hovers 
In the perfume-laden air, 
Whither stray light-hearted lovers, 
Often they meet with the« 
there. 
Always thou dwellest ’mid 
beauty 
Bird of melodious wing, 
Toseek it’s thy life’s only duty. 
And bask in perpetual 
spring. 
