BEFORE THE STORM.
A whir and sweep of snow-white wings,
Soft brown-flecked breasts, now here, now there
A-sway upon the ragged weeds
Or darting through the wintry air.
I watch you from the frosted pane
Beside the glowing hearth-stone warm,
And shudder as I hear the wail
Of angry winds before the storm.
—Mary Morrison.