ALOFT he guards the starry folds Who is the brother of the star; The bird whose joy is in the wind Exulteth in the war. No painted plume -- a sober hue, His beauty is his power; That eager calm of gaze intent Foresees the Sibyl's hour. Austere, he crowns the swaying perch, Flapped by the angry flag; The hurricane from the battery sings, But his claw has known the crag. Amid the scream of shells, his scream Runs shrilling; and the glare Of eyes that brave the blinding sun The volleyed flame can bear. The pride of quenchless strength is his -- Strength which, though chained, avails; The very rebel looks and thrills -- The anchored Emblem hails. Though scarred in many a furious fray, No deadly hurt he knew; Well may we think his years are charmed -- The Eagle of the Blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY THE BABYLONIAN HORDES by ISAAC ROSENBERG BRUCE: IN PRAISE OF FREEDOM by JOHN BARBOUR THE IMPROVISATORE: RODOLPH THE WILD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES GERARDA by ELOISE ALBERTA VERONICA BIBB THE DRIED MILLPOND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: THURSDAY by JOHN BYROM |