WATERFOWL. 
273 
dance of food. When the autumn frosts and the shortening 
days give tokens of coming winter, they stream to the south 
in great flocks, and pass the winter in a more genial climate. 
The American poet Bryant, like Robert Burns, seems to 
have been struck with the flight and manners of the water- 
fowl, and the curious powers of wing which enable them 
to fly to such distances; and has thus beautifully addressed 
A Waterfowl'':— 
" W^Mther, '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 painted on , 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 fann'd, 
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, 
