photo #391549

WHAT POWERThe wild geese fly in the autumn skyAnd south is the course they pursueFor nature tells them frost is nighAnd instinct tells them what to doNo meeting of delegates in a great hallNo flowery speeches, no intricate planNo red tape to mind, just an understood callWhat do you make of it, competent man?With a heritage born of a higher estateWhat 'vantage do we, from our reason derive?Except that we understand better to hateAnd are better prepared to enslave and driveWhat course has a man being left on his own?Without the conventional things to referWhen the wild billows roll and stout timbers groanAnd stinging salt causes the vision to blurWith a gibbering death's head, there on the mastAnd his last earthly hope being torn from his breast What dominant power sustains to the last..And leads him to flight when he wishes to restNow we come to a fact without kith kin or clanAnd we know that in times, when no order is boardThe same power governs the course of manAs is made manifest in the flight of the bird