SNOWBIRDS

Along the narrow sandy height

I watch them swiftly come and go,

Or round the leafless wood,

Like flurries of wind-driven snow,

Revolving in perpetual flight,

A changing multitude.

Nearer and nearer still they sway,

And, scattering in a circled sweep,

Rush down without a sound;

And now I see them peer and peep,

Across yon level bleak and gray,

Searching the frozen ground,—

Until a little wind upheaves,

And makes a sudden rustling there,

And then they drop their play,

Flash up into the sunless air,

And like a flight of silver leaves

Swirl round and sweep away.