ALOFT he guards the starry folds <br />Who is the brother of the star; <br />The bird whose joy is in the wind <br />Exulteth in the war. <br /> <br />No painted plume—a sober hue, <br />His beauty is his power; <br />That eager calm of gaze intent <br />Foresees the Sibyl’s hour. <br /> <br />Austere, he crowns the swaying perch, <br />Flapped by the angry flag; <br />The hurricane from the battery sings, <br />But his claw has known the crag. <br /> <br />Amid the scream of shells, his scream <br />Runs shrilling; and the glare <br />Of eyes that brave the blinding sun <br />The volleyed flame can bear. <br /> <br />The pride of quenchless strength is his— <br />Strength which, though chained, avails; <br />The very rebel looks and thrills— <br />The anchored Emblem hails. <br /> <br />Though scarred in many a furious fray, <br />No deadly hurt he knew; <br />Well may we think his years are charmed— <br />The Eagle of the Blue.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-eagle-of-the-blue/
