The Daring One

I would my soul were like the bird That dares the vastness undeterred. Look, where the bluebird on the bough Breaks into rapture even now! He sings, tip-top, the tossing elm As tho he would a world o’erwhelm. Indifferent to the void he rides Upon the wind’s eternal tides. He tosses gladly on the gale, For well he knows he can not fail— Knows if the bough breaks, still his wings Will bear him upward while he sings!