lived an honored man.

He had a ship, for which he chose
"The LILY" as a name,
To keep in memory whence he rose,
And how his fortune came.'

He had a lily carved, and set,
Her emblem, on her stem;
And she was called, by all she met,
A beauteous ocean gem.

She bore sweet spices, treasures bright;
And, on the waters wide,
Her sails as lily-leaves were white:
Her name was well applied.

Her feeling owner never spurned
The presence of the poor;
And found that all he gave returned
In blessings rich and sure.

The God who by the lily-pond
Had drawn his heart above,
In after life preserved the bond
Of grateful, holy love.

=The Humming-Bird's Anger=

"Small as the humming-bird is, it has great courage and violent
passions. If it find a flower that has been deprived of its honey, it
will pluck it off, throw it on the ground, and sometimes tear it to
pieces." BUFFON.

On light little wings as the humming-birds fly,
With plumes many-hued as the bow of the sky,
Suspended in ether, they shine to the light
As jewels of nature high-finished and bright.

Their vision-like forms are so buoyant and small
They hang o'er the flowers, as too airy to fall,
Up-borne by their beautiful pinions, that seem
Like glittering vapor, or parts of a dream.

The humming-bird feeds upon honey; and so,
Of course, 'tis a sweet little creature, you know.
But sweet little creatures have sometimes, they say,
A great deal that's bitter, or sour, to betray!

And often the humming-bird's delicate breast
Is found of a very high temper possessed.
Such essence of anger within it is pent,
'Twould burst did no safety-valve give it a vent.

Displeased, it will seem a bright vial of wrath,
Uncorked by its heat, the offender to scath;
And, taking occasion to let off its ire,
'Tis startling to witness how high it will fire.

A humming-bird once o'er a trumpet-flower hung,
And darted that sharp little member, the tongue,
At once to the nectarine cell, for the sweet
She felt at the bottom most certain to meet.

But, finding some other light child of the air
To rifle its store, had already been there;
And no drop of honey for her to draw up,
Her vengeance broke forth on the destitute cup.

She flew in a passion, that heightened her power;
And cuffing, and shaking the innocent flower,
Its tender corolla in shred after shred
She hastily stripped; then she snapped off its head.

A delicate ruin, on earth as it l