Crows Poem by Mary Eliza Fullerton
Crows
At an old water-hole,
Bones lay in the hide
And teeth gibbered up
Of things that had died.
Tortured of thirst,
There came to the mud
A son of the plain,
Who sank where he stood.
Then the crows from afar,
Where the water was good,
Came nearer, for heaven
Had given them food.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
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5/6/2024 1:16:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
