Siegfried Sassoon

Tossed on the glittering air they soar and skim,

Whose voices make the emptiness of light

A windy palace. Quavering from the brim

Of dawn, and bold with song at edge of night,

They clutch their leafy pinnacles and sing

Scornful of man, and from his toils aloof

Whose heartís a haunted woodland whispering;

Whose thoughts return on tempest-baffled wing;

Who hears the cry of God in everything,

And storms the gate of nothingness for proof.

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