Green wing and ruby throat, <br />What shining spell, what exquisite sorcery, <br />Lured you to float <br />And fight with bees round this one flowering tree? <br /> <br />Petulant imps of light, <br />What whisper or gleam or elfin-wild perfumes <br />Thrilled through the night <br />And drew you to this hive of rosy bloom? <br /> <br />One tree, and one alone, <br />Of all that load this magic air with spice, <br />Claims for its own <br />Your brave migration out of Paradise; <br /> <br />Claims you, and guides you, too, <br />Three thousand miles across the summer's waste <br />Of blooms ye knew <br />Less finely fit for your ethereal taste. <br /> <br />To poets' youthful hearts, <br />Even so the quivering April thoughts will fly,-- <br />Those irised darts, <br />Those winged and tiny denizens of the sky. <br /> <br />Through beaks as needle-fine, <br />They suck a redder honey than bees know. <br />Unearthly wine <br />Sleeps in this bloom; and, when it falls, they go.<br /><br />Alfred Noyes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-humming-birds/
