All day thy wings have fann'd,
At that far height the cold thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end;
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend
Soon o'er thy shelter'd nest.
Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven
Hath swallow'd up thy form: yet on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He, who from zone to zone
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.
W. C. Bryant
CXLII
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD
Some will talk of bold Robin Hood,
And some of barons bold;
But I'll tell you how he served the bishop of Hereford,
When he robbed him of his gold.
As it befel in merry Barnsdale,
All under the greenwood tree,
The bishop of Hereford was to come by,
With all his company.
'Come kill me a ven'son,' said bold Robin Hood,
'Come kill me a good fat deer;
The bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day,
And he shall pay well for his cheer.