Bird of the stormy wave! bird of the sea!
Wide is thy sweep, and thy course is free;
Cleaving the blue air, and brushing the foam,
Air is thy field of sport, ocean thy home.

Bird of the sea! I could envy thy wing,
O'er the blue waters I mark thy glad spring;
I see thy strong pinions as onward I glide,
Dashed by the foam of the white-crested tide.
M. A. STODART.