Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/149

Rh Till, fraught with that we gave you, fulfilled of our desire,

You bank—too late to save you from biting beaks of fire—

Turn sideways from your lover,

Shudder and swerve and run,

Tilt; stagger; and plunge over

Ablaze against the sun:

Doves dead in air, who clomb to dare

The hawks that guide the gun!

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