Classic Poem

Thou hermit bird of tender sight!
Ha! well thou fliest from the light,
To lie in secret and repose,
Hid in some crevice no one knows;
And, wrapt in slumber's lightest sleep,
Thy ears their vigils ever keep,
Lest some stray wanderer may intrude,
To mar thy sacred solitude.
Thy pinions only bear thee out
To search for plunder and to scout
For prey, in soft and noiseless flight,
When earth lies in repose, and night
Has drawn her curtain o'er the sky.
'Tis then, 'tis then thy tender eye
Is keen to see, reviewing all
Which under its quick glance may fall.