So, art thou feahered, art thou flown, br Thou naked thing?—and canst alone br Upon the unsolid summer air br Sustain thyself, and prosper there? br Shall no more with anxious note br Advise thee through the happy day, br Thrusting the worm into thy throat, br Bearing thine excrement away? br Alas, I think I see thee yet, br Perched on the windy parapet, br Defer thy flight a moment still br To clean thy wing with careful bill. br And thou are feathered, thou art flown; br And hast a project of thine own.br br Edna St.