SONG OF THE CARRION CROW.
The wolf may howl, the jackal may prowl,—
Rare brave beasts are they;
The worm may crawl in the carcass foul,
The tiger may glut o'er his prey:
Rare brave beasts are they;
The worm may crawl in the carcass foul,
The tiger may glut o'er his prey:
The bloodhound may hang with untired fang,—
He is cunning and strong, I trow;
But Death's stanch crew holds none more true
Than the broad-wing'd Carrion Crow.
He is cunning and strong, I trow;
But Death's stanch crew holds none more true
Than the broad-wing'd Carrion Crow.
My roost is the creaking gibbet's beam,
Where the murderer's bones swing bleaching;
Where the clattering chain rings back again
To the night-wind's desolate screeching.
Where the murderer's bones swing bleaching;
Where the clattering chain rings back again
To the night-wind's desolate screeching.
To and fro, as the fierce gusts blow,
Merrily rock'd am I;
And I note with delight the traveller's fright
As he cowers and hastens by.
Merrily rock'd am I;
And I note with delight the traveller's fright
As he cowers and hastens by.
I scent the deeds of fearful crime;
I wheel o'er the parricide's head;
I have watch'd the sire, who, mad with ire,
The blood of his child hath shed.
I wheel o'er the parricide's head;
I have watch'd the sire, who, mad with ire,
The blood of his child hath shed.
I can chatter the tales at which
The ear of innocence starts;
And ye would not mark my plumage as dark
If ye saw it beside some hearts.
The ear of innocence starts;
And ye would not mark my plumage as dark
If ye saw it beside some hearts.
I have seen the friend spring out as a foe,
And the guest waylay his host;
And many a right arm strike a blow
The lips never dared to boast.
And the guest waylay his host;
And many a right arm strike a blow
The lips never dared to boast.
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