Are Erik
Sometimes, from boredom, sailors snare an albatross:
These are enormous birds, the indolent companions
On Voyages, aloft and shadowing the course
Of sailing ships that plow the bitter ocean canyons.
No sooner have the sailors dumped him on the deck
Than he, king of the heavens, shamed and awkward, flaps
His long white wings; then, piteous, the wings go slack;
Like unmanned oars those great wings draggle and collapse.
This soaring voyager, how sprawled he is and weak!
Recently so sleek, now ludicrous and sprung!
One sailor with a cutty pipe torments his beak;
One mocks, by limping, him who through the sky had swung!
The Poet is a brother of this prince of clouds.
Familiar of the storm, he laughs at bows and slings.
But exiled on the earth among the hooting crowds,
He finds his walk is hobbled by his giant wings.
