Up soared the lark into the air, <br />A shaft of song, a wingéd prayer, <br />As if a soul released from pain <br />Were flying back to heaven again. <br /> <br />St. Francis heard: it was to him <br />An emblem of the Seraphim; <br />The upward motion of the fire, <br />The light, the heat, the heart's desire. <br /> <br />Around Assisi's convent gate <br />The birds, God's poor who cannot wait, <br />From moor and mere and darksome wood <br />Come flocking for their dole of food. <br /> <br />'O brother birds,' St. Francis said, <br />'Ye come to me and ask for bread, <br />But not with bread alone to-day <br />Shall ye be fed and sent away. <br /> <br />'Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds, <br />With manna of celestial words; <br />Not mine, though mine they seem to be, <br />Not mine, though they be spoken through me. <br /> <br />'Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise <br />The great Creator in your lays; <br />He giveth you your plumes of down, <br />Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown. <br /> <br />'He giveth you your wings to fly <br />And breathe a purer air on high, <br />And careth for you everywhere, <br />Who for yourselves so little care!' <br /> <br />With flutter of swift wings and songs <br />Together rose the feathered throngs, <br />And singing scattered far apart; <br />Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart. <br /> <br />He knew not if the brotherhood <br />His homily had understood; <br />He only knew that to one ear <br />The meaning of his words was clear.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sermon-of-st-francis-birds-of-passage-flight-the-fourth/
