Vultures
FOUL-FEATHERED and scald-necked,
They sit in evil state;
Raw marks upon their breasts
As on men's wearing chains.
Impure, though they may plunge
Into the morning's springs,
And spirit-dulled, though they
Command the heaven's heights.
Angels of foulness, ye,
So fierce against the dead!
Sloth on your muffled wings,
And speed within your eyes!
poem by Padraic Colum
Added by Poetry Lover
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