Chicken, Chicken flying high,
on wings so white with icy frost,
why in the corner of thine eye,
a sparkling flame is lost?

What famine, anguish or fears,
could have robbed thee of thine tears?
On what wings dare we aspire?
What feathers thus thou admire?

And what mountain, & what tree
could have brought you out to sea
as the colours of the night dancing meet.
What leg? What branch? What feat?

What the portal? and what the pain,
on what shore was thy grain?
What the cage? what dread gasp
Dare free you of its grasp!

When the mortal threw down hear spears
and water'd heaven with her tears:
Did she smile her work to see?
Did she who made the Egg make thee?

Chicken, Chicken flying high,
on wings so white with icy frost,
why in the corner of thine eye,
a sparkling flame is lost?