O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly,.
The little white cottage they gain;
And safely they watch from the window
The dance and the rush of the rain.
But the shag kept his place on the headland,
And, when the brief storm had gone by,
He shook his loose plumes, and they saw him
Rise splendid and strong in the sky.
Clinging fast to the gown of his sister,
The little boy laughed as he flew:
"He is gone with the wind and lightning!
And—I am not frightened,—are you?"
Celia Thaxter.
THE LOST BIRD.
My bird has flown away,
Far out of sight has flown, I know not where.
Look in your lawn, I pray,
Ye maidens kind and fair,
And see if my beloved bird be there.
His eyes are full of light;
The eagle of the rock has such an eye;
And plumes, exceeding bright,
Round his smooth temples lie,
And sweet his voice and tender as a sigh.
Look where the grass is gay
With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers;
And search, from spray to spray,
The leafy laurel bowers,
For well he loves the laurels and the flowers.