TO A HUMMING-BIRD. The green and spangled dell, For thee diffuses its sweet scent and hue: I love, sweet bird! to see Thy crimson plumage in the morning clear.- In the thin atmosphere. How thou art full of life How art thou joyous through thy transient hour- Go forth, on thy glad way! The Eagle of a hundred years, is not 125 SHE was, indeed, a pretty little creature, -The wolf, indeed! You've left the nursery to but little purpose, -Was 't not a wolf, then? I have read the story A hundred times; and heard it told: nay, told it Myself, to my younger sisters, when we've shrank LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Together in the sheets, from very terror, And, with protecting arms, each round the other, Last winter in the city, I and my school-mates, That met poor little Riding Hood i' the wood? -Hidden: nay, I'm not so young, but I can spell it out, -Thus then, dear my daughter: You see the peril that attends the maiden Who in her walk through life, yields to temptation, And quits the onward path to stray aside, Allured by gaudy weeds. -Nay, none but children Could gather butter-cups, and May-weed, mother. But violets, dear violets-methinks I could live ever on a bank of violets, Or die most happy there. You die, indeed, 127 At your years die! -Then sleep, ma'am, if you please, As you did yesterday in that sweet spot Down by the fountain; where you seated you It was, my love, And there, as I remember, your kind arm No, believe me, To keep the insects from disturbing you Was sweet employment, or to fan your cheek You're a dear child! -And then, To gaze on such a scene! the grassy bank, So gently sloping to the rivulet, All purple with my own dear violet, And sprinkled o'er with spring flowers of each tint. There was that pale and humble little blossom, Looking so like its namesake Innocence; The fairy-formed, flesh-hued anemone, With its fair sisters, called by country people Fair maids o' the spring. The lowly cinquefoil, too, And statelier marigold. The violet sorrel, Blushing so rosy red in bashfulness, And her companion of the season, dressed LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. In varied pink. The partridge evergreen, Hanging its fragrant wax-work on each stem, And studding the green sod with scarlet berries 129 - Did you see all those flowers? I marked them not. -O many more, whose names I have not learned. And then to see the light blue butterfly Roaming about, like an enchanted thing, From flower to flower, and the bright honey-bee— Beyond the brook there lay a narrow strip, Like a rich riband, of enamelled meadow, Girt by a pretty precipice, whose top Was crowned with rose-bay. Half-way down there stood Sylphlike, the light fantastic columbine, As ready to leap down unto her lover Harlequin Bartsia, in his painted vest Tut! enough, enough, |