Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ATTILA, by HENRY S. LOVEJOY



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ATTILA, by            
First Line: The croaking ravens flap o'er fallow fields
Last Line: "and whispered, ""peace, it is the scourge of god."
Subject(s): Attila, King Of The Huns (434-453); Yale University


THE croaking ravens flap o'er fallow fields,
The gaunt wolf lairs in ruined city walls,
While man, the Mighty Master, skulking crawls
On hands and knees so that no stir reveals
His presence; sunk to shameful depths he yields
His meal, a half-gnawed bone, to beasts.
The halls
Where nobles feasted now are used as stalls
And ladies' bowers are piled with leathern shields.

Fierce Messengers of Hell the barbarous horde
Swept through the land: beneath their hoofs the sod
Was shriveled; overhead a flaming sword
Blazed in the sky; behind Destruction trod,
Yet men, submissive, bowed before the Lord
And whispered, "Peace, it is the Scourge of God."





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