Of your feathers so light, so free,
swooping up the morning glee;
dressed in courage that all can see,
looking down the road at me.
I’m not to envy, not to hate,
though something in me, sad, of late;
Looking at the Eagles fate,
His freedom and his happy state.
Though long I’ve looked and wondered why,
His freedom mocks me, by and by;
While he sweeps the endless sky,
and endless drops of tears, I cry.
Yet, to the wind I look for hope,
that lifts the Eagle,n’ makes him float;
That helps a man, in valleys, cope;
the rainbow in my telescope.
And someday when I’m gray and old,
My story sweet, as stories told;
They’ll say, Her Saviours hand uphold,
So she could fly, so free, so bold.