L'ENVOI. 



The history is finished, the self-sought task is done, 



The tale is told of creatures wild and free; 



Of a tribe that's swiftly passing, its course now nearly run, 



Leaving for posterity naught save a memory. 



We have heard the bell-like cry 



Sounding faintly in the sky, 



Of feathered squadrons speeding on their way; 



We have watched the sportive broods 



In the Arctic solitudes. 



Where night was followed by an endless day. 



We have known them in their glory, in the pride of numbers 



strong, 

 Now we see them gathering in a feeble company, 

 We have heard the waters echo to the music of their song. 

 Now we listen to the silence born of river, lake, and sea. 



Nevermore in serried ranks, from fierce Atlantic's shore, 

 Across our wide domain to Pacific's tranquil sea, 

 The fowl will cloud the heavens, but the cry of " Nevermore," 

 Shall echo to the limits of Ages yet to be. 



