Humming Birds

The insect birds that suck nectareous juice
From straightest tubes of curly-petal'd flowers,
Or catch the honey-dew that falls profuse
Through the soft air, distill'd in viewless showers,
Whose colours seem the very souls of gems.
Or parting rays of fading diadems : —
I have but seen their feathers, — that is all.
As much as we can know of poets dead
Or living ; but the gilded plumes that fall
Float on the earth, or in the wind dispread
Go everywhere to beautify the breeze.
Sweet wind, surcharged with treasures fair as these,
I may not feel : — I never may behold
The spark of life, that trimm'd in garb so bright
That flying quintessence of ruby, gold.
Mild emerald, and lucid chrysolite.
Yet am I glad that life and joy were there.
That the small creature was as blithe as fair.