The Sandpiper by Witter Bynner
Along the sea-edge, like a gnome
or rolling pebble in the foam,
as though he timed the ocean’s throbbing,
Runs a piper, bobbing, bobbing.
Now he stiffens, now he wilts,
Like a little boy on stilts!
Creatures burrow, insects hide,
when they see the piper glide.
You would think him out of joint,
till his bill began to point.
You would doubt if he could fly,
till his straightness arrows by.
You would take him for a clown,
till he peeps and flutters down,
vigilant among the grasses,
where a fledgling bobs and passes.