Up there in those dizzy heights
As through the ages vast,
The falcon soars in tireless flight
As the fleecy clouds float past.
Round and round in the still clear air,
Unseen by the untrained eye,
Except perhaps by those who care,
The bird watchers of the sky.
Back and forth this tiny speck
Without a thought of rest,
Then perhaps with conscience thinks
Of the young ones in the nest.
Round and round on silent wings
By almost all unseen,
She scans the valley floor below
And all things in between.
Down there on that valley floor
Two pigeons linger still,
Then head off for home once more
Their young oneís mouth to fill.
The sun shines bright on those pigeons wings,
That gleam like the wings of a jet,
And from up on high the glint is seen
And the falconís mind is set.
Down she comes like a rocket from space,
The pigeon warns itís mate,
But the falconís claw is bent to kill
And the warning comes to late.
From back up there among the clouds
Or even higher still,
Comes down that screaming falconís mate
To take his partnerís kill.
For falcons mostly hunt in pairs
When it is time to breed,
And pity help the luckless bird
Should it be the falconís need.
And then away with burden held,
Full purpose in their flight,
To find that far off hidden crag
And on their nest alight.
There three hungry mouths to feed
That clamour in the nest,
Now their immediate work is done
And now perhaps the falcons rest.