The Eagle

By Alfred Billings Street

An eagle in this lovely scene
Was perched upon a hillock green,
Where strew’d remains of bow and spear
With here and there a scattered bone,
Bared by the frost and rain, made known
An Indian burial-place was here.
And as he stood, his form stretch’d high,
And from his keen and martial eye
Glances around he shot,
He seem’d within the halo-light
With ruffled plumes, and crown of white,
The monarch of the spot.
Balancing on his outspread wing,
At length he look’d as if to spring,
While higher arch’d his kingly neck;
Rustled the leaves — and with a shriek
He swept up, pointing high his beak,
And dwindled to a fading speck.

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