A bird came hopping on my shelf
With one good foot—a stump the other:
It hurt my heart to see so maimed
A feathered brother.

Yet when he spread his wings to go
He seemed to launch himself with laughter,
As though to shame my sorry thoughts
That fluttered after;

For though he could not perch so well,
Nor strut, nor swagger any longer,
His wings were strong as any bird's—
Or were they stronger?