Коутс Кинни (Coates Kinney)

The Thought and the Word

My thought is a soaring eagle,
  My word a serpent on the ground:
    The serpent crawls,
    The eagle falls
  Swifter than sight or sound.

A grapple of steely talons,
  A grip of coiling fetters round;
    And up the skies
    The eagle flies,
  Eagle with serpent bound.

A fight in the open heaven,
  And round and downward settling slow
    The strong bird sinks
    With snaky links
  Throttled to death below.

A curse on the strangling serpent!
  O, that my eagle did but know
    How down to stoop
    And with one swoop
  Finish him at a blow!