He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
...
that spring, there was a terrible drought
no one could stop
the earth from cracking open
and spilling its shrivelled guts
...
I see you when open my eyes
I see you all around the place
Through the tress I see you
Under the trees I see you
...
The Eagle By Alfred Lord Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from him mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.