Around, around in ceaseless circles wheeling
With clangs of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
Incessantly.

Around, around in ceaseless circles wheeling
With clangs of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
Incessantly.

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed read more

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that read more

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.

That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
Espied a read more

That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
Espied a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

King of the peak and glacier,
King of the cold, white scalps,
He lifts his head at read more

King of the peak and glacier,
King of the cold, white scalps,
He lifts his head at that close tread,
The eagle of the Alps.

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled read more

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
read more

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
The wonder of the eagle were the less,
But he not less the eagle.

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
read more

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart,
Which rank corruption destines for their heart!