Vultures

FOUL-FEATHERED and scald-necked,

They sit in evil state;

Raw marks upon their breasts

As on men's wearing chains.

Impure, though they may plunge

Into the morning's springs,

And spirit-dulled, though they

Command the heaven's heights.

Angels of foulness, ye,

So fierce against the dead!

Sloth on your muffled wings,

And speed within your eyes!