and are baked

in the pan,

love and made war ere the making of Man!

and the world like a barque without rudder or sail

Floated on through the night, 't was a Bird struck a

light, 't was a flash from the bright feather'd Tonatiu's[3]

tail!

sky, and afar, safe and high, the Hawk lit Sun and

Moon,

they recked not of care that should come on them

soon.

and a-musing he fell at the close of the day;

with some bark of the best, and a clawful of clay,[6]

without feathers (his game was a puzzle to all);

and, lastly, he uttered a magical call:

leaped up, who but they, and embracing they fell,

now he's forsaking his Father, Pundjel!

and to crown their desire who was found but the

Wren?

flame, and for this has a name in the memory of

 Prev. P 31/64 next