  A solitary bird was seen by the writer, making its toilsome flight against a strong storm-wind. The peculiar undulating flight, the gathering darkness of the night, and the portentous indications of storm suggested this: Whither away on such winged undulations, Breasting the winds and the tempests wild glee, Lifting your form in graceful vibrations As onward you move like a billowy sea? Alone, all alone, on wing wide extended, Nerved for the tempest that sounds not afar, Night her dark mantle o'er earth has suspended, Thro' which may not shine e'en the light of one star. Stop, lonely wanderer, and tell me why mateless, Tell me the story of your solitude; God, e'en a bird has not left so fateless But somewhere there lives a companion for you. Tell me if death has robbed you of treasures That sweetened the tone of your vesper song; Tell me if fears have destroyed all the pleasures Which justice and right say to you should belong. Tell me, yes, tell me, and tell me most truly, Is there just cause why your flight is alone? Is there some stain whereby you are duly Debarred from the pleasures that should be your own? Still but your wing and confide me the story, Chant it to me in a short plaintive song; Perhaps it may speak of a sweet transient glory That faded and died 'mid disaster and wrong. Perhaps I may speak some word that has healing For solitude's wounds, e'en sweet tho' they be, For sorrows augment by sacred concealing, And steal from the heart ev'ry wish to be free. Dear blessed bird! you have stopped at my pleading, My soul aids my ears to catch your sweet tone: "If life is not sweetened by presence and breeding, 'Tis better by far to travel alone. "I have learned as my wings have borne me thro' groves Where gods their ambrosial nectar sip, That the heart's best experience ever proves, Joy comes not from presence, but companionship." |
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