Little we dreamed, though that high air
Quickens imagination's flight,
What monstrous bird and very rare
Would in these parts some day alight;
How, like a roc of Arab fable,
A Zepp en route from London town,
Trying to find its German stable,
Would here come blundering down.
The swallows—you remember? yes?—
Northward, just then, were heading straight;