The writings of Robert C. Sands | ||
XXI.
“Come ye, who as hawks hover o'erThe spot where the war-club is lying,
Defiled with the stain of their gore,
The foemen to battle defying;
On your dusky wings wheeling above,
Who for vengeance and slaughter come crying;
For the scent of the carnage ye love,
The groans of the wounded and dying.
The writings of Robert C. Sands | ||