“Bird of the broad and sweeping wing,”
O bird of whom the poets sing,
O emblem of the noblest thing
Of which mankind can boast!
Didst thou but know thy image decked
That which commands the world's respect,
And makes kings kneel as slaves abject
To it, their god, almost:
Then thou wouldst soar to greater height
Than e'er attained by birds of flight,
To show the eagle's power and might,
With wings unfurled and stiff;
And at that dizzy height survey
The sea and land without dismay,
Till weary, sink at close of day
Upon thy mountain cliff:
And there secure from all the world,
Nestle, with plumed wings closely furled
That sustained thee and o'er earth whirled
Thee with a haughty air.
Ambitions would disturb thy dreams,
The night air shudder with thy screams,
And like the human soul that teems
With vain-glorious care,
Thy heart would ache, thy soul would long,
To move the world, to sway the throng,
Or be the hero of the song
Of some great epic pen.
‘ Tis well O bird that thou art free
To soar the air,‘ tis well with thee,
‘ Tis well that thou hast eyes to see,
But not the human ken.