Classic Poem

They made for the priest a mitre of many feathers
Of all birds in the sky;
The blue-birds burning like noon, and the great green parrots;
And blazing by
The humming-birds small like the humming bees, but brilliant
With a hundred gems;
And the great dark crimson cardinals one slow fire
To their feathered
And the holy helmet, the helmet of flaming feathers
Lifted his head
Like the rainbow crown out of heaven, the hope of martyrs,
That lifts the dead.
" But in all our days no feather fell from an angel " ,
The old priest said.