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the flight of genius.
Yet a sterner, darker strife is nigh;
Wild storms come sweeping down;
Their thunders peal through the trembling sky,
Their red lights gleam on the quivering eye,
Small birds to their leafy coverts fly,
But the Eagle still soars on!
Wild storms come sweeping down;
Their thunders peal through the trembling sky,
Their red lights gleam on the quivering eye,
Small birds to their leafy coverts fly,
But the Eagle still soars on!
Gaze high! for, the thunder's realm o'erpast,
Now where warm glories spring,
Where no storm his way may overcast,
Outsoaring the lightning and the blast,
Lo, a golden cloud receives at last
The bird of the mighty wing!
Now where warm glories spring,
Where no storm his way may overcast,
Outsoaring the lightning and the blast,
Lo, a golden cloud receives at last
The bird of the mighty wing!
