<h2><SPAN name="page82"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>HALF FLEDGED</h2>
<p class="poetry">I feel the stirrings in me of great things.<br/>
New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,<br/>
And tremble on the margin of their nest,<br/>
Then flutter back, and hide within my breast.</p>
<p class="poetry">Beholding space, they doubt their untried
strength.<br/>
Beholding men, they fear them. But at length,<br/>
Grown all too great and active for the heart<br/>
That broods them with such tender mother art,<br/>
Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour,<br/>
Save the impelling consciousness of power<br/>
That stirs within them—they shall soar away<br/>
Up to the very portals of the Day.</p>
<p class="poetry">Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through<br/>
When I contemplate all those thoughts may do;<br/>
Like snow-white eagles penetrating space,<br/>
They may explore full many an unknown place,<br/>
And build their nests on mountain heights unseen,<br/>
Whereon doth lie that dreamed-of rest serene.<br/>
<SPAN name="page83"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>Stay thou
a little longer in my breast,<br/>
Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest<br/>
Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine—<br/>
Oh, beautiful but half-fledged thoughts of mine.</p>
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