8 
The Crow 
Mount the air by common impulse ; 
Turn their legions towards the eastward, 
Turn their backs upon the mountains, 
Turn away from threatened hunger ; 
Seek the salty, wastes of tide land. 
Seek the boundless flats of Scarborough, 
Seek the broad-winged gulls and gannets, 
Seek the spoil of cruel Ocean. 
Silent snows fall on Chocorua, 
Snows which bury ledge and thicket. 
In the pine grove all is quiet ; 
Squirrels slumber in the crows' nests ; 
Owls and foxes rule the forest ; 
Days are short and nights are frozen. 
Thus the winter broods o'er Crowlands 
In the days when crows are absent. 
