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Bird of the Tropic! thou, who lov'st to stray
Where thy long pinions sweep the fultry line,
Or mark'st the bounds which torrid beams confine
By thy averted course, that shuns the ray
Oblique, enamour'd 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 honours gay.
O'er trackless oceans what impels thy wing?
Does no foft instinct in thy soul prevail ?
No sweet affection to thy bofom cling,
And bid thee oft thy abfent neft bewail ?
Yet thou again to that dear spot canst spring;
But I my long-lost home no more shall bail !

THE END.

3436-3

THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

DATE DUE

APR 23 1992

JAN 2 4 1992

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