A. D. MACNEILL

FAIR bird, whose silvery pinions sweep The hoary bosom of the deep, Or braced against the raging gale Across the vast of heaven sail, I hold thee as a symbol dear Of loving hearts who persevere Amid the woes of life, and brave Temptation's dark and forceful wave, That sweeps across us unawares; And swooping gusts of froward cares That shrewdly vex us. But again, When throned upon the tranquil tide In snowy robe unflecked of stain, You seem a soul beatified.