Poem

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1809–92

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.