Page:The Seaside and the Fireside.djvu/85

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Birds of Passage.
63
But the night is fair,And everywhereA warm, soft, vapor fills the air, And distant sounds seem near;
And above, in the lightOf the star-lit night,Swift birds of passage wing their flight Through the dewy atmosphere.
I hear the beatOf their pinions fleet,As from the land of snow and sleet They seek a southern lea.
I hear the cryOf their voices highFalling dreamily through the sky, But their forms I cannot see.
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