A pilot to a hunter

I cannot kill a splendid thing that flies:
I, too, have met the north wind, razor-keen;
And, isolated where the daylight dies,
Have watched the shadows closing like a screen

Above the earth, leaving me face to face
With the unrivaled majesty of space.
Comrades, we share the miracle of flight,
Adventuring to heaven's outer bars;

Brother to comets, kindred of the stars,
We trace a path of life upon the night.
 I cannot wound a throbbing, flying thing,
 I know the terror of a broken wing.

 -Goldie Capers Smith