Page:The Recluse, Wordsworth, 1888.djvu/27

Rh Their curious pastime, shaping in mid-air,

And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars

High as the level of the mountain-tops,

A circuit ampler than the lake beneath,

Their own domain;—but ever, while intent

On tracing and retracing that large round,

Their jubilant activity evolves

Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro,

Upwards and downwards; progress intricate

Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed

Their indefatigable flight. 'Tis done,

Ten times and more I fancied it had ceased,

But lo! the vanished company again

Ascending, they approach. I hear their wings

Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound

Passed in a moment—and as faint again!