Now low, now high
Oh how swift you fly
Queen of the skies
Below, the great Earth is but a mere spectre,
Above, the smiling clouds beckon
Wax grist to your high perch
But where does the eagle perch?
But where are eaglets hatched?
Idu, Mother Eagle
Your golden plumage in delirious flight
Tenderly balancing in the wind’s embrace
You swear to wear in constant shadeAnd never a feather to shed
Hard work never kills a man
But lays a golden egg
On shoulders narrow or wide
At God’s own time and tide
Only great hunters can tell
Where the Eagle perches
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.