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And while they wondered what these things might be,
At last spake forth the oldest of them all,
Burdened with hundred winters in his soul:
"I can remember, when my years were young,
Hearing the old monks say, one went from here
When spring was on the earth, as it is now,
Some five-score years ago, and was not seen
Again, though search was made in all the land."

And some believed this was the same, and all
Forgot it in a sennight's silent toil,
Save one, that saw, and seeing understood,
And for the greater glory of High God
Wrote down the story in a mighty book,
And limned the old saint hearkening to the bird
With bright hues, and you still may read and see.