THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
3 
THE STORMY PETRIL. 
A thousand miles from land are we, 
Tossing about on the roaring sea ; 
From billow to bounding billow cast, 
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast ; 
The sails are scattered abroad, like weeds, 
The strong masts shake, like quivering reeds ; 
The mighty cables, and iron chains. 
The hull which all earthly strength disdains, 
They strain, and they crack, and hearts like stone, 
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown. 
Up and down ! up and down ! 
From the base of the wave to the billow's crown, 
And amidst the flashing and feathery foam. 
The stormy petril finds a home, — 
A home if such a place may be. 
For her who lives on the wide, wide sea ; 
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air, 
And only seeketh her rocky lair 
To warm her young, and to teach them to spring 
At once o^er the waves on their stormy wing. 
