Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
Wolframs SongThomas Lovell Beddoes (18031849)
O
The old crow of Cairo;
He sat in the shower, and let it flow
Under his tail and over his crest;
And through every feather
Leak’d the wet weather;
And the bough swung under his nest;
For his beak it was heavy with marrow.
Is that the wind dying? O no;
It ’s only two devils, that blow
Through a murderer’s bones, to and fro,
In the ghosts’ moonshine.
When we have supped on kings’ marrow,
Where shall we drink and make merry our life?
Our nest it is queen Cleopatra’s skull,
’Tis cloven and crack’d,
And batter’d and hack’d,
But with tears of blue eyes it is full:
Let us drink then, my raven of Cairo!
Is that the wind dying? O no;
It ’s only two devils, that blow
Through a murderer’s bones, to and fro,
In the ghosts’ moonshine.