I would my soul were like a 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 cannot fail —
Knows if the bough breaks, still his wings
Will bear him upward while he sings!
~ Edwin Markham (1852–1940)
~ Source: The Gates of Paradise and Other Poems (1928)