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...A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |