34 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



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 has 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. 



