In early morn, we woke, we eight,

To start our journey soon,

To walk the mountain for a bird,

To hear it as it crooned.

We walked, we eight, out through the gate,

Our lodge we left behind.

Comfort must be left, the price, if

We were our bird to find.

Struggling up steep mountain path,

Rocks slipping ‘neath our feet,

We minded not, our minds were set

Upon our goal to reach.

And looking back, cross valley wide,

Naught spied but spread of clouds,

‘Cept farther on, peaks tearing through

The valley’s woolly shroud.

A height we’d gained, our breath was short,

Yet still was far to prowl,

If we were a sight to catch

Of our elusive fowl.

And why so did we struggle on,

If naught for but a bird?

This twas no ord’nary creature

That had our journey spurred.

He only dwelt in single place,

This creature of no vice,

For him we pilgrims travelled far,

The Bird of Paradise.

His glossy wings were midnight black,

Their downy under brown,

A yard behind stretched his tail, with

A turquoise head as crown.

For this we climbed our mountain steep;

For him we toiled so.

Above our path was clear to see,

Though fog hid vale below.

An hour more, our goal was met,

The ridge we had achieved.

And now we searched for ‘lusive bird

Around, about the trees.

Across the mountain top we strode,

Casting eyes all over.

Praying for a sight to catch, to

Paradise discover.

Through all his habitat we sought,

In clearing peered around.

Hours had passed, but now our ears

Were struck with strangest sound.

We started, twirled, and turned about,

Through dense woods tried to spy.

And ever, always, Paradise

His teasing call did cry.

Now sun was up, light hit the limbs,

But that was our destruction.

Now warmed, clouds rose, and soon enough

We moved in foggy ocean.

We slipped and wallowed in the muck;

Roots tripped us all over.

Yet never sight could we catch, or

Paradise discover.

And through that forest, wandering,

As mystical call fades,

Failed pilgrims seek, yet far away

Their Paradise remains.