| See how the golden bird tries to fly.
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| He is so angry, beats his wings in vain,
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| And the brightest jewels upon his back
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| Will not raise his head above the clouds.
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| Unlike the tiny sparrow, wild and free,
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| Gathering small pieces to build his nest,
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| For he has nothing, yet he can fly
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| Anywhere beneath God’s sky.
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| And loudly the eagle cries his song of war,
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| So piercing and shrill it strikes with fear
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| Among the shepherds dear gentle lambs
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| Caring nothing for his own soul.
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| And rarely the dragonfly does grace the dawn,
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| Dancing among the flowers of spring.
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| His rainbow hues he hath hidden from view,
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| Though unto God he spreads his wings. |