Poem By Daphne Grant
Down the steps against he wall
A mass of glory all outspread,
White, white wing and coal black head.
Body askew, already dead.
I stooped in wonder, or, was it dread,
how could it be; felled from the sky
This mighty bird, that should be flying
His glorious wheeling air ballet.
Gently, though he could not feel,
I took up the bird it's wings outspread,
I felt I couldn't leave it there,
I must for pities sake remove
Him to a safer spot.
Still was I wondering how
He came there from his element air.
I walked him solemnly up the hill
folded large white wings all tidily,
Laid him gently on the earth
neath a giant old oak tree,
Covered him with autumn leaves,
So no one could see him sleeping there,
Nor disturb his reveries.