war-birds

Updated: July 8, 2025

There was a noise of a singing of the bow and of the string, and the wordless song shaped itself thus in the heart of the Wanderer: Lo! the hour is nigh And the time to smite, When the foe shall fly From the arrow's flight! Let the bronze bite deep! Let the war-birds fly Upon them that sleep And are ripe to die! Shrill and low Do the grey shafts sing The Song of the Bow, The sound of the string!

Henry Rider Haggard - The World's Desire