How Can A Bird That Is Born

The Sick Rose O Rose, Thou Art Sick. The Invisible Worm That Flies In The Night In The Howling Storm Has Found Out Thy Bed Of Crimson Joy, And His Dark Secret Love Does Thy Life Destroy.

The Spirits Of The Air Live On The Smells Of Fruit; And Joy, With Pinions Light, Roves Round The Gardens, Or Sits Singing In The Trees.

The Bird A Nest, The Spider A Web, Man Friendship.

No Bird Soars Too High If He Soars With His Own Wings.

The Gulfing Whale Was Like A Dot In The Spell. Yet Look Upon It, And 'twould Size And Swell To Its Huge Self, And The Minutest Fish Would Pass The Very Hardest Gazer's Wish, And Show His Little Eye's Anatomy.