Pursuit, and flight altern; and for the song
Of larks descending to their grass-bowered homes,
The croak of flesh-gorged ravens, as they slake
Their thirst in hoof-prints filled with gore, disturbs
The stupor of the dying man; while death
Triumphantly sails down the ensanguined stream,
On corses, throned and crowned with shivered boughs,
That erst hung imaged in the crystal tide.
Grahame.
When war the demon lifts his banner high