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The Hummingbird

by Ivan Swift

When langourous noons entreat the summer sky,
And restive spirits vex the ways of men
In vain emprise; within my garden then
Will I elect to let the world go by,
And watch the hummingbird. Not seen to fly,
He comes and vanishes and comes again
And sips the sweets of honeysuckles when
Their lips are frail―but leaves them not to die.

So I have thought how good it were to be This ruthful corsair, bent on such pursuit,
Against the wear of my foreplanning hours;―
How good it were to live thus liegelessly
Upon the world's unreckoned blossom-loot―
Yet spare from any harm its guarded flowers!

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