Thought, behold yon bird there swinging
On his journey, free and light.
You have pinions too for winging
Toward a realm divinely bright.

Grieve not, though you seem a captured
Earth-bound prisoner, sad and loth.
Swift as light or bird, enraptured,
You may fly more free than both.

If the earth delight you, tarry
Mid its pleasures for a time;
If it irk you, hurry, hurry
Unto regions more sublime.