Hundred fathoms deep below you.
Right along the Edge we two
Clove our passage through the air.
Never rode I such a colt!
Straight before us as we rushed
’Twas as though there glittered suns.
Brown-backed eagles that were sailing
In the wide and dizzy void
Half-way ’twixt us and the tarns,
Dropped behind, like motes in air.