P his quiet dress.... For several moments this flame of color quivers,
then it burns into a mere thread of red and is gone. VIRGINIA GARLAND,
in _Feathered Californians._ SEPTEMBER 23. SONG OF THE LINNETS. "Cheer!"
"Cheer!" sing the linnets Through rapturous minutes, When daylight first
breaks And the golden Dawn streaks Through the rose of the morning--so
bright! "Gone! gone is the Night! It is light!" "We have buried our
heads Under eaves of the sheds, Where our tender broods sleep; And the
long watch we keep Through the darkness and silence--till dawn. It is
morn! It is morn! It is morn!" JOHN WARD STIMSON, in _Wandering Chords._
SEPTEMBER 24. THE HUMMING BIRD. Buz-z! whir-r!--a flash and away! A
midget bejeweled mid flowers at play! A snip of a birdling, the
blossom-bells' king, A waif of the sun-beams on quivering wing! O prince
of the fairies, O pygmy of fire, Will nothing those brave little wings
of yours tire? You follow the flowers from southern lands sunny, You pry
amid petals all summer for honey! Now rest on a twig, tiny flowerland
sprite, Your dear little lady sits near in delight; In a wee felted
basket she lovingly hudd
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