She spreads her wings, flies low across the vessel,
She scans the wake, then sails around the bows,
Not moving either pinion; much I marvel
How like one flying in a dream she goes.
She craves the presence of no other sea-bird;
She revels in the power to go at will;
The ocean solitudes, the wandering seaward,
The distant sail, her daring spirit thrill.
Behold, this fowl hath neither barn nor storehouse;
An unseen Hand assists her search for food;