The year, whose hopes were high and strong, Has now no hopes to wake; Yet one hour more of jest and song For his familiar sake. Oh stay, oh stay, One mirthful hour, and then away. The kindly year, his liberal hands Have lavished all his store. And shall we turn from where he stands, Because he gives no more? Oh stay, oh stay, One grateful hour, and then away. Days brightly came and calmly went, While yet he was our guest; How cheerfully the week was spent! How sweet the seventh day’s rest! Oh stay, oh stay, One golden hour, and then away. Even while we sing he smiles his last, And leaves our sphere behind. The good old year is with the past; Oh be the new as kind! Oh stay, oh stay, One parting strain, and then away. —William Cullen Bryant. THE GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET. (_Regulus satrapa._) The autumn wanes, and kinglets go, Sweet-voiced and knightly in their way, And all the birds our summers know, They flock and leave us day by day. —Frank H. Sweet, “Flocking of the Birds.” In these pleasing words the poet speaks of the kinglets. Yet his words may hardly apply to the Golden-crowned Kinglet, except in the northernmost part of its range, for it winters from the northern border of the United States southward to the Gulf of Mexico. “Muffled in its thick coat of feathers, the diminutive Goldcrest braves our severest winters, living evidence that, given an abundance of food, temperature is a secondary factor in a bird’s existence.” But little larger than a hummingbird, though unlike that mite of bird life, it seeks in the cooler air of northern climes a place for its nest. It also breeds throughout the length of the Rocky Mountains and in the Alleghanies as far south as North Carolina. This tiny and “charming sylvan ornament,” both elegant in dress and graceful in movement, is one of the seven known species of kinglets, of which there are but three that frequent the New World. It is very active while searching for its food. Its colors are such that, as it moves from twig to twig hunting for insects among the leaves, it is frequently hard to locate though its voice may be heard among the tree tops. Truly the name kinglet—little king—is not a misnomer, for the Golden-crown exhibits a decided character in every motion. It is fearless and though it will occasionally scold an intruder, wren-like, it does not visually resent the presence of man. Often in the forest or even in our city parks a Golden-crowned Kinglet will flash by one’s face and, dropping to the ground, seize an insect or worm that its bright eyes have detected in the grass, even at one’s feet.