By
Just to amuse themselves, deckhands will often take
A great sea-bird, an albatross –
One of those that plane above the ship’s white wake
As it pitches over briny chasms, shipwrecks, dross.
No sooner have they plonked it on the deck, those boors
Than the lord of deep blue air, as if shamed,
Lets its huge wings droop like oars
To trail beside it, self-conscious, maimed.
