How freely does the Arctic tern
Fly southward each returning fall
That it may heed Antarctic's call,
Eleven thousand miles in all!
And always on the spring's return
The beauteous creature knows it wants
To rear its young in Arctic haunts;
Disdains the dangers of such jaunts.
If birds fly thus without concern,
Is there less hope for humankind?
Shall faultless action be defined
In terms of matter or of Mind?
