A feather, blue, caught on a blade of grass,
In wide a field as there has ever been,
Was by a knowing gust released. And pass
It did, o'er country, field and sea. Unseen
By those land-levelled eyes and earth-held sights,
Directedly, unfetter'dly it went.
The way and nature of its molting might
Not matter now, for it was to be sent
To meet another feather on the sand
In lands with Cheshire moons and daunting suns.
Now faced with this red other, will at hand
Came to accept the former host-bird's shuns.
Now feather lays on feather, plume on plume;
A purple flight together they assume.
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