Ask the sun; it has watched him pass- 
a shadow mirrored on seas of glass; 
ask the stars that he knew so well 
if they beheld where a bird-man fell. 
Ask the wind that has blown with him 
over the edge of the oceans' rim, 
far from the charted haunts of men, 
to the utmost limits and back again. 
Ask the clouds on the mountain height 
the echoes that followed him in his flight, 
the thunder that prowls the midnight sky, 
if a silvered 'plane went riding by. 

If the birds could talk, would they tell the fall 
of a god who winged above them all? 
Of an eagle man by the world's decrees, 
King of the blue immensities?