By Margaret Robison Swapp
I saw you wing across the sky,
A flash of silver gray, and black;
You wheeled and circled with shrill cries,
And I called gaily back.
Your sharp eyes saw the fields below,
And every tiny speck that moved.
You glided slowly to the earth,
And followed in the plow-share’s groove.
Long years ago, your folk and mine
Were gathered on the sage-cleared sod;
Mien lifted up their eyes to pray,
And yours were sent from God.