GRAY BIRDS

Gray birds of passage from another sky

Are those long hours I sit and wait for you;

Borne by strong wings across the sunlit blue

They go — dark flecks of shadow drifting by.

Sometimes they bring a song — a joyful cry,

As morn and eve your coming used to do;

But sometimes plaintive notes of sorrow too,

Amid the joyful echoes wail and die.

Then as I watch the beating of the wings

That seek a haven by far northern lakes,

And catch the note of some bird-heart that sings,

Or hear the plaintive cry of one that breaks,

I turn once more to half-forgotten things,

And the old longing in my heart awakes.