Yet rose not till his hand their wings released
With Christian cross signed in the happy air,
Giving the songsters leave to scatter there.
Softly, so blessed, the grateful birds up-soared
And marvellous music in their flight outpoured:
Looked not at earth, nor him they left behind,
Parting in ways the holy cross had signed.
Singing they cleft the quarters of the sky—
Type of St. Francis’ mission wide and high:
Type of his little ones who nothing own,