Classic Poem

I entered my parlor one bright summer morn,
My vases with flowers, sweet flowers to adorn.
In arranging the curtains, there fell on my head
A dear little humming-bird, dead—quite dead!

I pressed the poor darling so close to my heart,
And thought that I felt a slight flutter, a start!
Could I but restore it to life, how divine,
How sweet, how delicious a joy would be mine!

I rushed to the garden and placed its long mouth
In the sweet honey-suckle which blooms in the South;
I saw that the humming-bird drew a long breath,
As it tasted the nectar that saved it from death!

The minutes flew past, yet I staid in the bower,
And moved my poor birdling from flower to flower;
At last, with a sweet strain of grateful heart's praise,
It flew upward, far upward, beyond my eyes' gaze.

Thus when you, dear children, are dying in sin—
When all is a void and an aching within—
Drink deep of the nectar of God's holy love,
And your souls will be wafted to mansions above.