From The Birmingham Age Herald, November 21, 1913. By Thomas More.

The bird let loose in Eastern skies
    When hastening fondly home
Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
    Where idle warblers roam.
But high she shoots through air and light
    Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight
    Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, God, from every care
    And stain of passion free.
Aloft, through Virtue’s purer air
    To hold my course to thee!
No sin to cloud nor lure to stray
    My soul as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
    Thy freedom in her wings!