Passage Of The Idle Crane

More things about birds

A heavenly leg

To part the water;

Long, and thin, and pale.

From the sharp golden bow

To the white feathered sail,

The sea grants soaring passage

At the breaking of the veil.

One shore to the next,

One light to another,

Our final journey goes;

A smooth gliding ferry

Flying over undertows.

We will all be passengers

With not a soul to row.

This, our second time afloat,

We'll know the stars so well,

Yet follow every shining point

And still fly swiftly down to hell.