TO A WATERFOWL 
Whither, mid’st falling dezv. 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 
Thy solitary way f 
Vainly the fozvlcr's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong. 
As darkly seen against the crimson sky, 
Thy figure floats along. 
All day thy zvings 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. 
— William Cullen Bryant. 
APRIL 18. 1914 
