On Williams’ ears, the sea-birds’ jangling cries.
LXVI.
Or the lone fowler, in his light canoe,
Round jutting point all warily did glide,
And pause awhile to watch, with steadfast view,
Where the long-diving loon might break the tide;
Then, noiseless, near the myriad seafowl drew,
And, baffled, saw them scur, with clangor wide,
Up from the foamy flood, and, mounting high,
Darken the day, and seek another sky.