Out of the high-built airy hive,
Deep in the clouds that veil the sun,
Look how the first of the swarm arrive;
Timidly venturing, one by one,
Down through the tranquil air,
Wavering here and there,
Large, and lazy in flight,--
Caught by a lift of the breeze,
Tangled among the naked trees,--
Dropping then, without a sound,
Feather-white, feather-light,
To their rest on the ground.