Classic Poem

The sun and the wind
I praise, Lord God,
and the moon ways
my feet have trod.

The nest at night
and the mating time
and little feathery
breasts on mine:

Live things of the earth,
and morning quest,
and the summer's burden
of sweet unrest,

And the long flight
to the brave South—
wind under wing,
spray on the mouth.

But more than these,
my praise, O King,
humblest praise
for the songs I sing,

For the power to ease
my heart of pain
in singing, and so
find joy again.

And I ask no death,
Lord God, but this:
Grant me, Thy bird,
a small bird's bliss—

Let me pierce the blue
one day as I sing,
and touch Thy golden
feet with my wing.