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				Title:     A Fable [with Crows, Owl, Hawk, Canary, Marsh-Fowl] 
			    
Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox [
More Titles by Wilcox]		                
			    
Some cawing Crows, a hooting Owl,
     A Hawk, a Canary, an old Marsh-Fowl,
       One day all meet together
     To hold a caucus and settle the fate
     Of a certain bird (without a mate),
       A bird of another feather.
     "My friends," said the Owl, with a look most wise,
     "The Eagle is soaring too near the skies,
       In a way that is quite improper;
     Yet the world is praising her, so I'm told,
     And I think her actions have grown so bold
       That some of us ought to stop her."
     "I have heard it said," quoth Hawk, with a sigh,
     "That young lambs died at the glance of her eye,
       And I wholly scorn and despise her.
     This, and more, I am told they say,
     And I think that the only proper way
       Is never to recognize her."
     "I am quite convinced," said Crow, with a caw,
     "That the Eagle minds no moral law,
       She's a most unruly creature."
     "She's an ugly thing," piped Canary Bird;
     "Some call her handsome--it's so absurd--
       She hasn't a decent feature."
     Then the old Marsh-Hen went hopping about,
     She said she was sure--_she_ hadn't a doubt--
       Of the truth of each bird's story:
     And she thought it a duty to stop her flight,
     To pull her down from her lofty height,
       And take the gilt from her glory.
     But, lo! from a peak on the mountain grand
     That looks out over the smiling land
       And over the mighty ocean,
     The Eagle is spreading her splendid wings--
     She rises, rises, and upward swings,
       With a slow, majestic motion.
     Up in the blue of God's own skies,
     With a cry of rapture, away she flies,
       Close to the Great Eternal:
     She sweeps the world with her piercing sight;
     Her soul is filled with the infinite
       And the joy of things supernal.
     Thus rise forever the chosen of God,
     The genius-crowned or the power-shod,
       Over the dust-world sailing;
     And back, like splinters blown by the winds,
     Must fall the missiles of silly minds,
       Useless and unavailing.
[The end]
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poem: Fable [with Crows, Owl, Hawk, Canary, Marsh-Fowl]
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