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"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. It's simple and concise, but language is...I don't know the correct word. Intense, visual, visceral? Something along those lines. I much more a prose lover, but the poem has stuck with me for years.
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Nov 16, 2013 10:14
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| # ¿ May 11, 2024 17:20 |
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