Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way! Vainly the fowlers eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. 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. --William Cullen Bryant
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 14:33:12 +0000
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