A. D. Macneill
The Sea-Gull
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.