The Eagle
by
Alfred Lord Tennyson
by
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
1 comment:
The man had a way with imagery and action, I'll give him that.
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