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.