The birds are gathering over the dunes, Swerving and wheeling in shifting flight, A thousand wings sweep darkly by Over the dunes and out of sight. Why did you bring me down to the sea With the gathering birds and the fish-hawk flying, The tide is low and the wind is hard, Nothing is left but the old year dying. I wish I were one of the gathering birds, Two sharp black wings would be good for me -- When nothing is left but the old year dying, Why did you bring me down to the sea? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: GEORGE GRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS POOR DEVIL! by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |