|
|
|
|
The Eagles
|
 |
THE 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 control; The eagles gathering on the carcase feed,
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|