Birds of Passage Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.