The Nuptial Flight 
morning air rushes into her stigmata, 
singing its song, like the blood of heaven, 
in the myriad tubes of the tracheal sacs, 
nourished on space, that fill the centre of 
her body. She rises still. A region 
must be found unhaunted by birds, that 
else might profane the mystery. She 
rises still; and already the ill-assorted 
troop below are dwindling and falling 
asunder. The feeble, infirm, the aged, 
unwelcome, ill-fed, who have flown from 
inactive or impoverished cities, these re- 
nounce the pursuit and disappear in the 
void. Only a small, indefatigable cluster 
remain, suspended in infinite opal. She 
summons her wings for one final effort; 
and now the chosen of incomprehensible 
forces has reached her, has seized her, and 
bounding aloft with united impetus, the 
ascending spiral of their intertwined flight 
whirls for one second in the hostile mad- 
ness of love. 
20 395 
