Normale Version: To the White Bird of the Tropic
Du siehst gerade eine vereinfachte Darstellung unserer Inhalte. Normale Ansicht mit richtiger Formatierung.
Bird of the Tropic! thou, who lov'st to stray,
Where thy long pinions sweep the sultry line,
Or mark'st the bounds which torrid beams confine
By thy averted course, that shuns the ray

Oblique, enamored of sublimer day -
Oft' on yon cliff thy folded plumes recline,
And drop those snowy feathers Indians twine,
To crown the warrior's brow with honors gay -

O'er trackless oceans what impels thy wing?
Does no soft instinct in thy soul prevail?
No sweet affection to thy bosom cling,

And bid thee oft thy absent nest bewail? -
Yet thou again to that dear spot can'st spring -
But I my long-lost home no more shall hail!