The Bird Wounded By An Arrow





A bird, with plumed arrow shot,

In dying case deplored her lot:

"Alas!" she cried, "the anguish of the thought!

This ruin partly by myself was brought!

Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow

What wings to us the fatal arrow!

But mock us not, ye cruel race,

For you must often take our place."



_The work of half the human brothers_

_Is making arms against the others._





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