  The glitter of the sunlit river In his flashing, fearless eye, There on his unwearied pinions See the bird go sailing by! Slender, sword-like wings, and dainty, How they cut the thin air now! And without a trace of languor Soars he to the mountain’s brow. Back again—for whim has moved him— And where rippling water lies, Scanning all the shore line closely, Light as thistle-down he flies! On the white sand scarce a footprint Makes he, touching here and there; Singing his two notes so gladly, Ah, this bird is passing fair! Sweet content in voice and motion; Following plash of many a wave; Or o’er pine that faces ocean Mounts this rover, gay and brave! —George Bancroft Griffith. |
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