Scarce am I of the earth; But lord of the air am I, In the heights I had my birth, And my range is the broad blue sky. Soaring, ever a-wing, Swooping down to the kill, I fear no feathered thing; None may oppose my will. Lonely I am, and proud, Savage and fierce and strong. Afar is my keen gaze bowed Where the meek earth creatures throng, My prey, my meat are these; Larders of living food To pluck from their sheltering trees, And bear to my hungering brood. I watch grey dawns arise Where my storm-swept ramparts frown; Cradled in painted skies, I watch gold eves go down. For the chase are my arts employed— To harry and hunt and seize; Then back to my vast blue void In the vault of the mysteries. What do I dream of there, Where only the eagles go? What are my joys, my care? None but the eagles know. Up from dull earth I lift, From the lowly things of the sod, And into the zenith drift Questing my meat from God.