While a painted balloon, with its rubber case,
Floats gracefully down to its proper place,
As though it were waiting the moment when
It could fly far away ’bove the homes of men,
And be guided with equal precision and ease
As far or as near as the rider may please.
And the flag-staff glows with its highland plaid,
With which the painter the bare stick clad;
While high ’bove the earth, in his own free pride,
Is old Red Jacket standing, his bow beside,