To a Waterfowl

Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Fly, dovelet, fly—thy stream has a view
(As an unbillowed breast) of the dawn’s ray.

See! The yonder calls on me yet, My soul to pierce your wavy head, Let me be free as your billow doth fret, And travel on high where no tears have fled.

And the softest symphony, Nature’s muse, Whispers serenely on the wings of the breeze, But before you vanquish to the sun’s clandestine ruse, Guide me, O creature, to the wild, free seas. —Sidney Lanier

• Sidney Lanier