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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HOME-COMING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Straight upward from the crowded square
Last Line: May rule the kingdom of the air.
Subject(s): Courage; Flight; Home; Pigeons; Valor; Bravery; Flying


Straight upward from the crowded square,
The cynosure of countless eyes,
A carrier pigeon cleaves the air,
And seeks the freedom of the skies;
Then pauses, at that safer height,
To choose with care his line of flight.

Well may his strength and courage fail,
As that stupendous void is scanned;
Unfurrowed by a single trail,
Four thousand miles of sea and land
Lie now between his native hill
And this great city of Brazil!

For weeks conveyed within a cage
Through leagues of unfamiliar space,
How can he from this final stage
His long and devious route retrace,
Or know in this strange southern sky
The one sure path by which to fly?

For him no chart makes progress plain.
Nor compass points to polar star;
The working of that tiny brain
Must guide him now, however far;
Yet fearlessly he ventures forth
Directly towards the distant North!

Behold that frail form flying fast
Through torrid heat and tropic rains,
O'er desert sands and jungles vast,
And miles of pampas-covered plains,
Forever speeding on and on
To reach the lordly Amazon!

By day, o'er forests dark and deep,
Where savage pumas have their lairs;
By night, o'er villages that sleep,
Avoiding cunning Indian snares;
A lurking foe on every crest
Where, breathless, he must pause to rest.

At length the Orinoco glides
Beneath him towards the rising sun;
Then Maracaibo's sluggish tides
Reveal the journey half way done;
A little more, -- and brave and free,
He gains the Caribbean Sea!

Yet even o'er that trackless deep
On wearied wings he dares to go,
Nor fails his steadfast course to keep
Across the Gulf of Mexico;
One continent he leaves behind
Another continent to find.

Not ours to know the bitter strife
He then endured, as, spent and sore,
With winds and waves he risked his life
To reach his native land once more,
But we at least his rapture share
When he, unharmed, alighted there!

Did something reassure him then
That he would soon no longer roam?
Already could he feel again
Some recognition of his home?
We fain would fancy that he knew,
And felt exultant as he flew.

In that long flight from Rio's bay
Week after week had slowly passed,
But on the forty-seventh day
The little hero came at last,
And -- all his sufferings unexpressed --
Sank proudly on his longed-for nest!

Brave little bird! I view with awe
That wondrous power possessed by thee,
And marvel at the perfect law
That guides thee through immensity!
What is this gift which makes thee know
Unerringly the way to go?

We call it "instinct"; 'tis a word
Invented by presumptuous Man,
Who claims that reason is conferred
On him alone in Nature's plan,
Resentful that dog, bird, and bee
Are often cleverer far than he.

To him in his immense conceit
The world for Man alone seems made,
Its fish and fowl for him to eat,
Its sun to warm, its trees to shade,
Forgetful that this wrinkled Earth
Was eons old before his birth.

Abundant life then flourished here
In ocean, forest, field, and sky;
Sun, moon, and stars were no less clear
Because unseen by human eye,
And virgin snow-peaks stood sublime
Through ages of primeval time.

And what has been may be again,
And Earth may yet roll on through space,
Once more untenanted by men,
And heedless of our vanished race,
While tuneful birds, with plumage fair,
May rule the kingdom of the air.





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