THE EAGLES
by: Jones Very (1813-1880)
- HE eagles gather on the place
of death
- So thick the ground is spotted with their wings,
- The air is tainted with the noisome breath
- The wind from off the field of slaughter brings;
- Alas! no mourners weep them for the slain,
- But all unburied lies the naked soul;
- The whitening bones of thousands strew the plain,
- Yet none can now the pestilence controul;
- The eagles gathering on the carcase feed,
- In every heart behold their half-formed prey;
- The battened wills beneath their talons bleed,
- Their iron beaks without remorse must slay;
- Till by the sun no more the place is seen,
- Where they who worshipped idol gods have been.
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POEMS BY JONES VERY |
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