Stands by the Squirrel until she dips her bow
And sinks beneath the waves; then looks above
And takes a parting broadside at the Dove.
The "Angel" then, in Neptune's sky-machine
Ascendeth in a blaze of gasoline;
The Dove, marooned, broods over many things,
Nestling her poor cold feet beneath her wings.
Regenerate, the Angel has returned
From empyrean Flight, to Earth, and learned