On Stealth
if you could prowl the forest, so stealthly,
that you would not arouse a browsing doe—
if you could linger by slow waters
to gaze upon Diana bathing,
yet not stir her wary hounds—
if only you could stand so silent
that you heard the clouds collide—
--and if only mighty wings would sprout
from where your arms now swing,
then you could leave your cares along the path
and with the eagles fly
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