Voyager on golden air,
Type of all that's fleet and fair,
Incarnate gem,
Live diadem
Bird-beam of the summer day, —
Whither on your sunny way?
Loveliest of all lovely things,
Roses open to your wings;
Each gentle breast
Would give you rest;
Stay, forget lost Paradise,
Star-bird fallen from happy skies.
Vanished! Earth is not his home;
Onward, onward must he roam
Swift passion-thought,
In rapture wrought,
Issue of the soul's desire,
Plumed with beauty and with fire.
