'Tis true, they say, that Magpies know
To recognise the seraph glow
Of shining souls in midst of all
Glistering treasures on which they fall.
'Tis true, they say, the carrion Crow
Would feast on sweeter meat, forgo
Stale putrid flesh and human waste,
For honeyed kill still warm to taste.
'Tis true, they say, that Rats will thrive
Where nothing wholesome may survive;
They teem and throng as if one mind
To hunt what has been left behind.
'Tis true, they say, that Man will break
All bounds and quest in his mistake
To catch a dream, as yet unwrought
And trample all, in pleasures sought.
04
minor edit 20.03.10
