The golden-crowned kinglet that all summer long
Has brightened the wood with his presence and song,
Oh, where has he gone that I see him no more
On the bough of the pine where I saw him of yore?
His wee, tiny nest hangs aloft in the tree,
All empty and cheerless and lone as can be,
Where erst in the cool summer breezes it swung
A hammock and home for his clamorous young.
Now loud through the fir boughs the autumn winds blow
Where soon will be gathered the cold winter snow,
Aloft in the birch is the call of the jay
But never a kinglet to greet me to-day.
He has left the old home with a solemn "good bye"
For a spot that he loves 'neath the far southern sky,
Yet I know as he murmurs his "tsee, tee, tee, tee,"
He'll sometime be thinking of summer and me.
"The Kinglet" by Floyd Dalton Raze, from The Home of the Wild Rose and Other Poems, 1911.