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Down
by the pasture meadowlarks wing,
And by the river mockingbirds sing.
On the sandy shores lone seabirds wheel and call.
Deep within the forest old wise owl knows all.
Sadly, lonely, I walk along the hot and dusty ground,
For I am but a human, and therefore am earthbound.
Eagles soar above the mountain fair,
But I have no chance of going there.
Swallows swoop over the grassy plain,
But if I tried so, nothing would I gain.
So I am sad and despondent, for I
Cannot fly. Oh! I cannot fly.
But perhaps if I thought of my innermost dreams,
And looked very hard, I might find the means,
To fly and swoop and wheel and soar;
To wend my way through paths of air.
And so I did and so I found,
Now I rarely ever come down.
I sail along on my silver wings:
The wings of my imaginings.
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