Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsTo The Same (to The Humming Bird)
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
To The Same (to The Humming Bird) Post by :rorey Category :Poems Author :Thomas Cowherd Date :October 2011 Read :3555

Click below to download : To The Same (to The Humming Bird) (Format : PDF)

To The Same (to The Humming Bird)

Whence, and what art thou? O thou beauteous little thing!
That like a dazzling sprite
Appearest in my sight,
Sipping from sweet flower-cups the honey stores of Spring.

I have sought for many days to find a proper word
As a fitter name for thee
More pleasing unto me,
But cannot find a better than that of Humming Bird.

True, I might thee call A Fluttering Ray of Light
Decked in prismatic hues,
Which a radiance diffuse
Just like a beam of glory straying from a Seraph bright.

Yea, I could picture thee as a new-born infant's soul,
Bidding adieu to Earth
A moment after birth,
But having love for flowers which it scarcely can control.

Or, I might describe thee as a precious, new-coined thought
Illumined by the Truth,
Always enjoying youth,
Till into Wisdom's Temple 'tis by its Builder wrought.

Yet, whatever thou may'st be, or howsoever called,
Thou'rt welcome to remain--
My garden sweets to drain,
And a lonely Vision be evermore enrolled.

JUNE, 1859.

(The end)
Thomas Cowherd's poem: To The Same (to The Humming Bird)

If you like this book please share to your friends :

The Dog The Dog

The Dog
I can't talk dog an' he can't talk man, Yit Rover an' me, we onderstan'; I wag my tongue an' he wags 'is tail, An' Love explains whar grammars fail. An' we ain't by ourselves in dat, in dat-- No, we ain't by ourselves in dat.(The end)Ruth McEnery Stuart's poem: Dog

The Prize-winner The Prize-winner

The Prize-winner
Dat Berkshire horg in de blue ribbon pen Come home wid de heavy-weight prize again; He looks mighty pompious in 'is stall, But he's on'y a fat horg, after all. An' he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat-- An' he ain't by 'isself in dat.(The end)Ruth McEnery Stuart's poem: Prize-Winner