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S I am sitting in the sun upon the porch to-day,

I look with wonder at the elm that stands across the way;

I say and mean "with wonder," for now it seems to me

That elm is not as tall as years ago it used to be!

The old fire-hangbird's built her nest therein for many springs—

High up amid the sportive winds the curious cradle swings,

But not so high as when a little boy I did my best

To scale that elm and carry off the old fire-hangbird's nest!

The Hubbard boys had tried in vain to reach the homely prize

That dangled from that upper outer twig in taunting wise,

And once, when Deacon Turner's boy had almost grasped the limb,

He fell! and had to have a doctor operate on him!

Philetus Baker broke his leg and Orrin Root his arm—

But what of that? The danger gave the sport a special charm!

The Bixby and the Cutler boys, the Newtons and the rest

Ran every risk to carry off the old fire-hangbird's nest!