Classic Poem

Over the hills with terror-cry,
An eagle burst into the sky.
Thousands of crows pursued him, filling
The heavens with sounds of curse and killing.
They rusht in raucous murder crowds,
Stung by some madness of the clouds.
Over my head there came to me
The thunder of an upper sea.

The noble bird in desperate hope,
Fled to a camp upon the slope,
Crasht down upon the men, that they
Might keep his enemies at bay.
It was good reasoning to suppose
That men have higher souls than crows.

What happened as a crowning proof
Of how divine a thing is man?
The men saw tragedy and ran
To shield the bird beneath their roof.
They scared away the murder bands,
Taking him in with happy hands.
They brought him food and water, glad
To soothe a fugitive, terror-mad.
They felt the thrill of his great eyes
That still burned with the upper skies.
They loost him then to the airy spaces,
To gladden upward-looking faces. . . .

No, no, you're wrong, my pen! Instead,
They got their guns and shot him dead!
And now, in bitter shame, I know
How little a man transcends a crow!