Wings

I live in every sentient thing. Aye, what am I?-- The force that stirs the bird to sing, And bids it fly; The urge within the grey cocoon To swell, and rend The prison-walls; the ceaseless croon,-- “Life hath no end!”

The pulse within the seed that breaks The shrivelled shell; The thrill in bud, till bloom awakes; The clarion bell That calls the soul of Man to rise; The power that flings Off shackles of the flesh, and cries,-- “Behold thy wings!”