Black shadows fall <br />From the lindens tall, <br />That lift aloft their massive wall <br /> Against the southern sky; <br /> <br />And from the realms <br />Of the shadowy elms <br />A tide-like darkness overwhelm <br /> The fields that round us lie. <br /> <br />But the night is fair, <br />And everywhere <br />A warm, soft vapor fills the air, <br /> And distant sounds seem near; <br /> <br />And above, in the light <br />Of the star-lit night, <br />Swift birds of passage wing their flight <br /> Through the dewy atmosphere. <br /> <br />I hear the beat <br />Of their pinions fleet, <br />As from the land of snow and sleet <br /> They seek a southern lea. <br /> <br />I hear the cry <br />Of their voices high <br />Falling dreamily through the sky, <br /> But their forms I cannot see. <br /> <br />Oh, say not so! <br />Those sounds that flow <br />In murmurs of delight and woe <br /> Come not from wings of birds. <br /> <br />They are the throngs <br />Of the poet's songs, <br />Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs, <br /> The sound of winged words. <br /> <br />This is the cry <br />Of souls, that high <br />On toiling, beating pinions, fly, <br /> Seeking a warmer clime. <br /> <br />From their distant flight <br />Through realms of light <br />It falls into our world of night, <br /> With the murmuring sound of rhyme.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/birds-of-passage/
