IS it a monster bee, Or is it a midget bird, Or yet an air-born mystery That now the marigold has stirred, And now on vocal wing To a neighbor bloom is whirred, In an aery ecstasy, in a passion of pilfering? Ah! 'tis the humming-bird, Rich-coated one, Ruby-throated one, That is not chosen for song, But throws its whole rapt sprite Into the secrets of flowers The summer days along, Into most odorous hours, Into a murmurous sound of wings too swift for sight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRAID CLAITH by ROBERT FERGUSSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 27 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN AMOR MUNDI by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI BY BLUE ONTARIO'S SHORE by WALT WHITMAN THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE SONNET: EGYPT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |