Snow-Buntings

They come fluttering helpless to the ground     Like wreaths of wind-caught snow,     Uttering a plaintive, chirping sound,     And rise and fall, and know not where they go.     So small they are, with feathers ruffled blown,     Adrift between earth desolate and leaden sky;     Nor have they ever known     Any but frozen earth, and scudding clouds on high.     What hand doth guide these hapless creatures small     To sweet seeds that the withered grasses hold?,     The little children of men go hungry all,     And stiffen and cry with numbing cold.     In a sudden gust the flock are whirled away     Uttering a frightened, chirping cry,     And are lost like a wraith of departing day,     Adrift between earth desolate and leaden sky.