The Bird

A bird which flew on wisps of thought,
Did go too low and so was caught.
Placed he in gilden cirrus cell;
His yanks, his pulls -- subdued. His yell --
Unheard, although cried he in rage,
For silence was his golden cage.

But one did see and she did plot
To flit on down and part the knot.
A swoop, a peck, he was dewalled,
And so to life and flight recalled.
Then feasted they on swampy sedge,
And flew out to creation's edge.