| |
| A FLAME went flitting through the wood; | |
| The neighboring birds all understood | |
| Here was a marvel of their kind; | |
| And silent was each feathered throat | |
| To catch the brilliant stranger’s note, | 5 |
| And folded every songster’s wing | |
| To hide its sober coloring. | |
| Against the tender green outlined, | |
| He bore himself with splendid ease, | |
| As though alone among the trees. | 10 |
| The glory passed from bough to bough— | |
| The maple was in blossom now, | |
| And then the oak, remembering | |
| The crimson hint it gave in spring, | |
| And every tree its branches swayed | 15 |
| And offered its inviting shade; | |
| Where’er a bough detained him long, | |
| A slender, silver thread of song | |
| Was lightly, merrily unspun. | |
| From early morn till day was done | 20 |
| The vision flitted to and fro. | |
| At last the wood was all alone; | |
| But, ere the restless flame had flown, | |
| He left a secret with each bough, | |
| And in the Fall, where one is now, | 25 |
| A thousand tanagers will glow. | |
| |
