THE EAGLE.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;Close to the sun in lonely lands,Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;He watches from his mountain walls,And like a thunderbolt he falls.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;Close to the sun in lonely lands,Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;He watches from his mountain walls,And like a thunderbolt he falls.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;Close to the sun in lonely lands,Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;He watches from his mountain walls,And like a thunderbolt he falls.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson.