When newborn on his fledgling wings,

A pigeon dreamt of lofty things,

But elders warned of what's in store,

"You're just a pigeon. Nothing more."



"Perhaps," he thought, "I'll be a swallow,

So swiftly flying none could follow,

Or maybe with great eagles soar!"

He was a pigeon. Nothing more.



"Or a poet! Scholar! Mathematician!

Saint, philosopher, great magician!

Like ravens, I'll quote, 'Nevermore!'"

Alas, a pigeon. Nothing more.



He dreamed of being other birds,

But in the end 'twas naught but words.

'Twas just a pigeon--nothing more--

Who'd never heard of glass before.

