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The Gulls

by Amos Russel Wells

I watched the gulls in shimmering changeful flight,
Darting and wheeling on incessant wing,
And each a buoyant aud impulsive thing,
Kin to the smiling sea and sunny light;
Until, down swooping from his azure height,
One broke his air-play into plundering,
Snatched out his victim from a wave a-swing.
And spoiled that paradise with murderous blight.
"Thus, thus," I thought, "the blessed angels know
Our mortal sporting in diviner air,
How happily our fancies come and go
On wings of sweet ideals high and fair;
And how, alas we often plunge below
On brutal errands in the waves of care."