James Montgomery

Blue thou art, intensely blue;
Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?

Blue thou art, intensely blue;
Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?

The violets were past their prime,
Yet their departing breath
Was sweeter, in the blast of death,
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The violets were past their prime,
Yet their departing breath
Was sweeter, in the blast of death,
Than all the lavish fragrance of the time.

The Dove,
On silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

The Dove,
On silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

Nimbly they seized and secreted their prey,
Alive and wriggling in the elastic net,
Which Nature hung read more

Nimbly they seized and secreted their prey,
Alive and wriggling in the elastic net,
Which Nature hung beneath their grasping beaks;
Till, swoln, with captures, the unwieldy burden
Clogg'd their slow flight, as heavily to land,
These mighty hunters of the deep return'd.
There on the cragged cliffs they perch'd at ease,
Gorging their hapless victims one by one;
Then full and weary, side by side, they slept,
Till evening roused them to the chase again.

The nursery of brooding Pelicans,
The dormitory of their dead, had vanish'd,
And all the minor spots read more

The nursery of brooding Pelicans,
The dormitory of their dead, had vanish'd,
And all the minor spots of rock and verdue,
The abodes of happy millions, were no more.