The birds are gathering over the dunes, Swerving and wheeling in shifting flight, A thousand wings sweep darkly by Over the dunes and out of sight. Why did you bring me down to the sea With the gathering birds and the fish-hawk flying, The tide is low and the wind is hard, Nothing is left but the old year dying. I wish I were one of the gathering birds, Two sharp black wings would be good for me -- When nothing is left but the old year dying, Why did you bring me down to the sea? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON HEARING OF INTENTION .. TO PURCHASE THE POET'S FREEDOM by GEORGE MOSES HORTON A PAINTED FAN by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON CHARACTERS: SARAH TAYLOR RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE IMPROVISATORE: THE INDUCTION TO THE FIRST FYTTE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE SONG OF THE COSSACK by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER PRIVATE DEVOTION by PHOEBE HINSDALE BROWN |