What bird that climbs the cool dim Dawn But loves the air its wild wings roam? And yet when all the day is gone But turns its weary pinions home, And when the yellow twilight fills The lonely stretches of the West, Comes down across the darkened hills, Once more to its remembered nest?
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What bird that climbs the cool dim Dawn But loves the air its wild wings roam? And yet when all the day is gone But turns its weary pinions home, And when the yellow twilight fills The lonely stretches of the West, Comes down across the darkened hills, Once more to its remembered nest?
Read Less
