Mongolia

Standing on one foot up high,
To view the ever present sky,
To reach out keenly for the air,
To look and really, of life, bear

The brunt of beatings strong,
To give and, of a sense, belong
To nobler stature all the same,
But humbly to give of Name,

Greater than the others nigh,
Who stand thus squarely, by and by,
And head is tilted toward the ground,
To hear the echoing, beating sound

Of earthly noises in the night,
Which hearken with foreboding fright;
We hear you as you go unashamed
About the work which is unnamed.