 | Fra Cipolla, and other poems |  |
95
TO AN EAGLE.
Wild bird, they say that who like thee
Would soar, must single-minded be,
Nor love life's light variety;
Over seas and mountains blue
Ever with the sun in view,
If it shine not in the sky,
Seeing still with inner eye;
And so in famous story
Shall they have after glory.
Would soar, must single-minded be,
Nor love life's light variety;
Over seas and mountains blue
Ever with the sun in view,
If it shine not in the sky,
Seeing still with inner eye;
And so in famous story
Shall they have after glory.
But the supple snake below,
With his winding courses slow,
Uttereth in his heart, “Ho, Ho!
For one spirit of the air
There are thousands of the earth;
Cautiously with me they fare,
Through the depths I lead them forth:
And so in famous story
Have they the surer glory.”
With his winding courses slow,
Uttereth in his heart, “Ho, Ho!
97
There are thousands of the earth;
Cautiously with me they fare,
Through the depths I lead them forth:
And so in famous story
Have they the surer glory.”
The while comes Winter with his frosts behind
And stayeth either course, and killeth all the kind.
And stayeth either course, and killeth all the kind.
| Fra Cipolla, and other poems | |