Eagle On The Mountain Crest
By Hilda Conklings
His bronze shone like a haze:
From below you would think him an image
Of long ago.
But he is real … he is of now-a-days:
No one made him but God.
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His bronze shone like a haze:
From below you would think him an image
Of long ago.
But he is real … he is of now-a-days:
No one made him but God.