English poem
Birds at Evening
by Marjorie Pickthall (1883–1922)
When the rooks fly homeward and the gulls are following high, And the grey feet of the silence with a silver dream are shod, I mind me of the little wings abroad in every sky Who seek their sleep of God.
When the dove is hidden and the dew is white on the corn, And the dark bee in the heather, and the shepherd with the sheep, I mind me of the little wings in the holm-oak and the thorn Who take of Him their sleep.
When the brier closes and the iris-flower is furled, And over the edge of the evening the martin knows her nest, I mind me of the little hearts abroad in all the world Who find in Him their rest.