Flying Over / Theodore Goodridge Roberts

Flying Over

Pacing an endless city street,
     I heard a sound from the upper air —
Vibrant, mystic, quick with life
     And sad with longing — of wings astir.

I raised my glance past the midnight lamps,
     To catch a shadow of that high flight
Of birds in the starshine breasting north,
     Homebound, cleaving the April night;

And my heart went, too, with my eyes’ rapt gaze,
To join the geese in the starry ways.

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Theodore Goodridge Roberts
from The Leather Bottle, 1934

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

Theodore Goodridge Roberts (by George Dance)