When in the clouds there speaks thunder,
liveth though, a raven to sunder,
those bleak tidings rolling in,
and in the daylight breaks the din.
Though battle roars beneath your wings,
your view perched from high above,
sees all, or most of what you love,
vision far and vision wide doth you try with which to guide.
Even some birds don't see all,
but you try, your lovely call,
and in the struggle, you come out with,
a valiant thunder, with which to wish.
Like the Vikings of ancient lore,
like the raven, above it all you soar.
Comments about this poem (The Raven by Kevin Maroney )
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