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 his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

(The photo is a golden eagle I photographed today at the Braddock Bay Hawk Watch in Rochester, New York, USA)