But she will not receive it. From earth and heaven outcast,
The Ostrich dies, as it lived, unfriended to the last.
Of the wild and wayward Ostrich, say, have ye never heard?
Of the poor, distracted, lonely, outcast, and wandering bird?
But not alone it wandereth. My spirit stirs in me,
With a sort of half-fraternal and drawing sympathy;
This lonely, restless spirit, that would rise from the heavy ground
To the sky of light and love that stretcheth all around.
But, with all its restless longings, it too must earth-bound stay,
And, with wings half formed for soaring, here hold its weary way,
Hungering for food of heaven, feeding on dust and stone,
While about it lie unheeded, as it hasteth on alone,
Its deeds of good or evil, a fruitful mystery;
But it presseth on, nor recketh what their event may be.
And when doubt and fear assail it, it may not rise above
To the glorious, peaceful height of fear-outcasting love;
But something draws it downward, breathes of its lower birth,
Prompts it to seek a refuge in the blindness of the earth.
And it hides its head in earthliness; at least it will not see
The blow it cannot ward off; and the foe it may not flee.
But something softly whispers that these wings shall grow to soar--
Heaven grant!--in the cloudless depths of love for evermore.
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