Does The Eagle Know What Is In

Bring Me An Axe And Spade, Bring Me A Winding-sheet; When I My Grave Have Made Let Winds And Tempests Beat: Then Down I'll Lie As Cold As Clay. True Love Doth Pass Away!

The Vision Of Christ That Thou Dost See, Is My Vision's Greatest Enemy. Thine Is The Friend Of All Mankind, Mine Speaks In Parables To The Blind. Thine Loves The Same World That Mine Hates, Thy Heaven-doors Are My Hell Gates.

My Mother Bore Me In The Southern Wild, And I Am Black, But O! My Soul Is White; White As An Angel Is The English Child, But I Am Black As If Bereaved Of Light.

Travelers Repose And Dream Among My Leaves.

Little Fly, Thy Summer's Play My Thoughtless Hand Has Brushed Away. Am Not I A Fly Like Thee? Or Art Not Thou A Man Like Me? For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing!