BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky;

And from the realms Of the shadowy elms, A tide-like darkness overwhelms The fields that round us lie.

But the night is fair And everywhere A warm, soft vapor fills the air And distant sounds seem near;

And above, in the light Of the star-lit night, Swift birds of passage wing their flight Through the dewy atmosphere.

I hear the beat Of their pinions fleet, As from the land of snow and sleet They seek a southern lea.

I hear the cry Of their voices high Falling dreamily through the sky, But their forms I cannot see. —Longfellow.