The Eagle—Alfred, Lord Tennyson
"He clasps the crag with crooked hands..."
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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.
I love the word "crag." Tennyson seemed to also. It is not a comforting word, here or in Break, Break, Break. It shows a stark and intimidating world that threatens us. The tender grace must be sought elsewhere.
The wrinkled sea crawling in the world below --- such a contrast to the majestic mountain walls ascending to the Eagle's own domain in the sky.