Classic Poem

From the soft south the constant bird comes back,
Faith-led, to find the welcome of the spring
In the old boughs whereto she used to cling
Before she sought the unknown southward track:
Above the Winter and the storm-cloud's wrack
She hears the prophecy of days that bring
The Summer's pride, and plumes her homeward wing
To seek again the joys that exiles lack.

Shall I of little faith, less brave than she,
Set forth unwillingly my goal to find,
Go home from exile with reluctant mind,
Distrust the steadfast stars I cannot see,
And doubt the heavens because my eyes are blind?
Nay! Give me faith like wings to soar to Thee!