Whither, midst falling dew, <br />While glow the heavens with the last steps of day <br />Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue <br />Thy solitary way? <br /> <br />Vainly the fowler's eye <br />Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong <br />As, darkly seen against the crimson sky, <br />Thy figure floats along. <br /> <br />Seek'st thou the plashy brink <br />Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, <br />Or where the rocking billows rise and sing <br />On the chafed ocean side? <br /> <br />There is a Power whose care <br />Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- <br />The desert and illimitable air-- <br />Lone wandering, but not lost. <br /> <br />All day thy wings have fanned, <br />At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, <br />Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, <br />Though the dark night is near. <br /> <br />And soon that toil shall end; <br />Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, <br />And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, <br />Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. <br /> <br />Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven <br />Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart <br />Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given, <br />And shall not soon depart. <br /> <br />He who, from zone to zone, <br />Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, <br />In the long way that I must tread alone, <br />Will lead my steps aright.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-waterfowl/
