WILD-FOWL

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                                             The order'd troops

In spiral circles mount aloft, and soar

In prospect far above the denser air

That hangs o'er the moist plain. Again they view

The glorious sun, and while the light of day

Still gleams upon their polish'd plumes--the bright

Sonorous squadrons sing their evening hymn.

THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, VOL. 8 (Completed)Where stories live. Discover now