He will watch the hawk with an indifferent eye Or pitifully; Nor on those eagles that so feared him, now Will strain his brow; Weapons men use, stone, sling and strong-thewed bow He will not know. This artistocrat, superb of all instinct, With death close-linked Had paced the enormous cloud, almost had won War on the sun; Till now, like Icarus mid-ocean-drowned, Hands, wings, are found. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PALINGENESIS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FOR THE BED AT KELMSCOTT by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) RONDEL by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE ROSES ON THE TERRACE by ALFRED TENNYSON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 18 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE TAPESTRY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |