The wind of the morning was in the sky,
Calling and calling, now low, now high!
"Awake and awake, ye bonny wee birds!
And awake and awake, ye flocks and ye herds!"

It called and it called, long ever a note
Was answered back by a feathered throat;
And the flocks and herds were as silent and still,
Under the brow of the sheltering hill.

But suddenly, through the darkness there,
Over the hill and everywhere —
By field and wood and rock and river —
A shadowy presence seemed to quiver;