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1868–1950

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL

Edgar Lee Masters

Eagle, your broken wings are tangled Among the mountain ferns On a ledge of rock on high. Below the yawning chasm turns

To blackness, but the evening planet burns Above the gulf in a gold and purple sky! Vultures and kites Fly to their rookeries

In the rocks With swift and ragged wings against the lights. From levels and from leas Haste the returning flocks.

Foxes have holes and serpents the grass for flight. Eagle, arise! It is night. The world's wanderer finds you As he climbs the mountains

In the unending quest. Can you spread wings across the darkening chasm To the craggy nest, Where the foreboding mate lies still?

Croak for the evening star, And beat your shattered wings against your breast! Across the gulf the wanderer sees afar A light in the house on the hill!

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THE HOUSE ON THE HILL · Edgar Lee Masters · Poetry Cove