Was it worth while to forego our wings 
To gain these dextrous hands? 
Truly they fashion us wonderful things 
As the fancy of man demands.

But -- to fly! to sail through the lucid air 
From crest to violet crest 
Of these great grey mountains, quartz-veined and bare, 
Where the white clouds gather and rest.

Even to flutter from flower to flower, -- 
To skim the tops of the trees, -- 
In the roseate light of a sun-setting hour 
To drift on a sea-going breeze.

Ay, the hands have marvellous skill 
To create us curious things, -- 
Baubles, playthings, weapons to kill, --
But -- I would we had chosen wings!