Oh, be not like that humming-bird Around the sweet rose roving, That is ling'ring there, while e'er is heard The breezes of summer moving, But when the chilly blast has blown And wint'ry storms are brewing, He flieth away to a milder zone, And leaveth it then to its ruin; Be like that bird we oft have seen, Whose mellow notes were ringing Among the willows when all was green, And flowers around us were springing. And when those boughs are all stript bare, By wint'ry storms o'ertaken, That faithful bird is still ling'ring there, Nor hath ever that spot forsaken. "A song from Mr. Seddon," cried the Professor, as he concluded his own melody. Tom sang as follows: Though many days have vanished Since last I sighed adieu, Yet time has never banished The love I feel for you: Though many leagues now sever, Yet I forget thee never;-- True love grows the stronger As it endures the longer. Though absence bringeth sorrow Upon the soul like night, Yet on that night a morrow Shall shed its golden light,-- And hope's lone star shall burn, love, Brightly till I return, love, And in thy smile discover That night's last gloom is over. "Poor Tom is thinking of Ida," said the Professor, in a whisper to Toney, as Tom turned aside and furtively wiped away a tear that stood in his eye. "How can he help thinking of her?" said Toney. "And Rosabel?" said the Professor. "Do you suppose," said Toney, "that I ever forget her? I am mirthful, for it does not become a true man to be moody and melancholy. But I never forget." "Nor does it become one of the Funny Philosophers to sport with such feelings," said the Professor, visibly affected. "I do not forget Dora." "Do you not?" "No; though she has long since forgotten me," said the Professor, sadly. "A song from Mr. Perch," exclaimed a voice in the crowd, and in plaintive tones the Long Green Boy gave utterance to the following melody: Oh, give me now the heart that thou once stole away from me When list'ning to thy treacherous vow beneath the greenwood tree; The flowers then bloomed above the ground, fanned by the breath of spring; The humming-bird was sporting round upon a purple wing. The gentle May hath passed away, the rose-leaves all are dead; That faithless humming-bird so gay on wanton wing hath fled, Nor cometh there to mourn their fate, but seeks a southern sun; And thou hast left me desolate, thou false and cruel one. "Perch is thinking of the beautiful Imogen and the scene in Colonel Hazlewood's garden," said Toney to the Professor. "Neither you nor he seem to have a very favorable opinion of the humming-bird."