Flute

O happy little bird, crying above
A sudden wind of murmuring violins,
Brief is the flight into the blue we love—
One sky-mad note before descent begins.

Down, down, into a stirring marsh of sound:
Froglike bassoon and reedy clarinet,
The earthy things that sing upon the ground;
But peace, the sky is not forgotten yet.

Patiently move within the symphony,
For we shall try again to reach the sun—
Shall try again to sing the spirit free
Before the music’s little breath is done.