With lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.
Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a mighty lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry: --
'O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.
‘Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy
for a golden moment share your feathery life in air!’
-Henry Charles Beeching
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