54 
‘--When with thy Life Thou didst Encompass Mine r 2 - [July, 
nothing of the village, lay between. 
If he was our bird’s mate, his choice 
of a picket station was indeed an enig¬ 
ma. He might almost as well have 
been on Mount Washington. Nor can 
I believe that he had any connection 
with a nest which I found two months 
afterward in a pitch-pine grove within 
a quarter of a mile, more or less, of 
his clearing. It was undoubtedly a 
nest of that season, and might have 
been his for aught I know, so far as 
the mere fact of distance was con¬ 
cerned; but here again an interven¬ 
ing wood must have cut off all visual 
communication. If his mate and nest 
were not within view from his ash-tree 
perch, what could be the meaning of 
his conduct ? Without some specific 
constraining motive, no bird in his nor¬ 
mal condition was likely to stay in one 
tree hour after hour, day after day, 
and week after week, so that one could 
never come in sight of it without see¬ 
ing him. But even if his nest was in 
the immediate neighborhood, the close¬ 
ness and persistency of his lookout are 
still, to my mind, an absolute mystery. 
Our female bird, whether she had eggs 
or offspring, made nothing of absent¬ 
ing herself by the half hour; but this 
male hardly gave himself time to eat 
his necessary food; indeed, I often 
wondered how he kept himself alive. 
Is such a course of action habitual with 
male hummers? If so, had our seem¬ 
ingly widowed or deserted mother a 
husband, who somewhere, unseen by 
us, was standing sentry after the same 
heroic, self-denying fashion ? These 
and all similar questions I must leave 
to more fortunate observers, or post¬ 
pone to a future summer. Meantime, 
my judgment as to the male ruby- 
throat’s character remains in suspense. 
It is not plain to me whether we are 
to call him the worst or the best of 
husbands. 
Bradford Torrey. 
“WHEN WITH THY LIFE THOU DIDST ENCOMPASS MIN^b” 
When with thy life thou didst encompass mine, 
And I beheld, as from an infinite height, 
Thy love stretch pure and beautiful as light, 
Through utmost joy I hardly could divine 
Whether my love of thee it was, or thine, 
Which so my heart astonished with its might. 
But now at length familiar with the sight, 
So I can bear to look where planets shine, 
Ever more deep the wonder grows to be 
That thou shouldst-love me; while my love of thee 
Does of my being seem a second part; 
Still often now as from a dream I start, 
To think That, thou, even thou, — thou lovest me, 
I being what I am, thou what thou art. 
Philip Bourke Marston. 
