WILD bird flying northward, whither thou?
And vessel bending southward, what thy quest?
Clouds of the east, with sunshine on your brow,
Whither? and crescent setting in the west?

Still we pursue while the white day is ours;
The wild bird journeys northward in his strength;
The tender clouds waste in their sunny bowers,
One shepherd guides and gathers them at length.

Fly swift, ye birds, against the north wind fly,
And crowd your sail, ye vessels southward bound:
Rest, rest, ye clouds, upon the happy sky!
Thus nightly in the fold shall all be found.