Across the troubled air.           

                        

             Some faint and wearily should glide           

             Their broken flight along—           

             While some high in the air should ride           

             Dilated, bold, and strong.           

                        

             Some agitated and adrift,           

             Against their will should rove;           

             Some, steering forward, sure and swift,           

             Should scarcely seem to move—           

                        

             While others, happiest of their kind!           

             Should in the ether soar,           

             As if no care would ever find,           

             No sorrow reach them more;           

                        

             When soon an arrow from below           

             Should wound them in their flight,           

             And many a crimson drop should flow           

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