His bill is clasped - his eye forsook

His Bill is clasped - his Eyeestranged forsook
His Feathers wilted low -
The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves
Indifferentgathered hanging now -
The Joy that in his happy Throat
AssembledWas waiting to be poured
Gored through and through with Death, to be
Assassin of a Bird
Resembles to my outraged mind
The firing in Heaven,
On Angels - squandering for you
Theirunsuspecting • [unsus]picious Miracles of Tune -