The Hawk Poem by Josias Homely

Bird of the blighted moor,
Child of the sullen storm,
When the bitter north winds roar,
And dark clouds day deform,
Thou'rt on the wing and sailing.
Stern savage of the air.
And proudly thou art hailing
The rude blast, void of fear.

Bold brigand—robber bird,
Thou'rt poised upon the breeze,
Where the north wind's wail is heard,
And the feath'ry vapours freeze.
Those freezing clouds thy dwelling ;
No lov'd mate's downy breast,
Like the ring dove's gently swelling,
Lures thee to love and rest.

I hold my hand to thee,
Bold outlaw of the waste,
Each cowering timid enemy
Has fled from thee in haste.
Unfettered is thy pinion—
Unclipp'd thy fearless wing-
That dark sky's thy dominion.
Thou art the desert's king.

I would not live a loveless life,
All fear'd, unlov'd to be ;
Yet dweller in the tempest cloud,
I hold my hand to thee.
While on the keen blast hovering,
Thou'rt proudly, bravely free,
I've brotherhood with every thing-
That is my link to thee.