Classic Poem

O birds of the air —
Wild birds, buoyant, vagabond, light —
Streams may have taught you a stave;
But how are ye born so sure of your flight
Hence over worlds of the wave?
Whose mind remembers in yours as it weaves
Subtlest of houses to sway with the leaves?
We have forgotten the land out of sight —
We build no house but the grave!