Nick   Antarctica
In the sea without lees
Standeth the bird of Hermes
Eating his wings variable
And maketh himself yet full stable
When all his feathers be from him gone
He standeth still here as a stone
Here is now both white and red
And all so the stone to quicken the dead
All and some without fable
Both hard and soft malleable
Understand now well and right
And thank you God of this sight

The Bird of Hermes is My Name, Eating My Wings to Make Me Tame
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