Classic Poem

Fly, fly!
Though they be borrowed wings
That bear thee so on high
For one brief ecstasy—
Fly, fly!
What were it to have known
A wind beneath thine own
Despondency?
Fly, fly!
Thy sluggish veins as mounting bird inspire.

Fly, fly!
Give to the winds their will—
Not left alone when Spring
Recalls her bourgeoning,
To hang
A mock, a withered thing
But loosening thy hold
To catch the breeze,
To fly!
Adventuring a heart-beat's width in space!
Oh, heart of me, take grace
Of this wild leaf—
And in Love's breath
His all-consuming breath
Fly, fly!
Thy moment's space,
Thy little transport comes but once
Perchance,
Nor will the Autumn ever turn again
To sweep thee—fling thee
With her rainbow sheaf.
Mad little heart
Then fly!
As were death ecstasy.

Though Love's wings be his own
And swift thou fall or die—
Fly up my heart!
Nor Love deny,
Where mortals merely plod
Hail thy gay peradventure,
Be a god!
One little instant,
Fly! fly!
Nature will have it so—

Her sport art thou,
Or on her side to victory
Ride her gold chariot race,
Be though not obstinate,
As never at thy Summer fullness
Fly, fly!
Mad little heart,
'Tis Nature bids thee fly!