Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast—
The desert and illimitable air—
Lone wanderer, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere.
Ye stoop not, weary, to the welcome land