The Sand-Hill Crane by Mary Austin

WHENEVER the days are cool and clear,

The sand-hill crane goes walking

Across the field by the flashing weir,

Slowly, solemnly stalking.

The little frogs in the tules hear,

And jump for their lives if he comes near;

The fishes scuttle away in fear

When the sand-hill crane goes walking.

The field folk know if he comes that way,

Slowly, solemnly stalking,

There is danger and death in the least delay,

When the sand-hill crane goes walking.

The chipmunks stop in the midst of play;

The gophers hide in their holes away;

And 'Hush, oh, hush!' the field-mice say,

When the sand-hill crane goes walking.