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Migrants' Home MAG
Look yonder at those birds as they fly
Aerial apparitions across the sky
With the flap of each majestic wing
Distance enormous sublimely mapping
Disparage not this journey of theirs as redundant
For migration is, for them, extremely significant
They have crossed the world round
Yet are not tired, for their journey is homeward bound
And even the most weary travellers were never exhausted
While on the path that towards home led
But if it is home that they now find
What was that which they left behind?
Asked a child to one of the flock
As they had paused to rest near a rock
To this the elderly bird replied
With little said and more implied
"Home isn't that which was, nor that which will be
We are wanderers, and this is our life, you see
Where our road goes, we have never reckoned
We follow blindly the path to which we feel beckoned
In the rocky parched sands, or the sea's wet foam,
Whither thy heart leads, there lies home."
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Wrote this on World Migratory Birds Day, for school.