How oft against the sunset sky or moon
— I watched that moving zigzag of spread wings
In unforgotten Autumns gone too soon,
— In unforgotten Springs!
Creatures of desolation, far they fly
— Above all lands bound by the curling foam;
In misty fens, wild moors and trackless sky
— These wild things have their home.
They know the tundra of Siberian coasts.
— And tropic marshes by the Indian seas;
They know the clouds and night and starry hosts
— From Crux to Pleiades.
Dark flying rune against the western glow —
— It tells the sweep and loneliness of things,
Symbol of Autumns vanished long ago.
— Symbol of coming Springs!