To a Waterfowl
WHITHER midst falling dew While glow the heavens with the last steps of day Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong As darkly seen against the crimson sky Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake or marge of river wide Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean-side? There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast— The desert and illimitable air— Lone wandering but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned At that far height the cold thin atmosphere Yet stoop not weary to the welcome land Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou 'rt gone the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given And shall not soon depart. He who from zone to zone Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight In the long way that I must tread alone Will lead my steps aright. |