How  many silent birds have winged away   
At the scraping of my footfall on brown rocks   
Below the world in the sea, where grey   
White birds sleep? I do not know.   
I know that once one stayed   
And, turning wise indifferent eyes,   
Watched me stumble down the cliff   
And wince at the salty spray,   
Waiting till I reached his side   
Before he flew away.