By Robert Nichols
Lost in my joy, I moved without a thought,
Save of the loveliness about me cast.
A huge gull shot by some wanton fool
And left - it may be hours ago - to die...
His flanks were whiter than the purest cloud...
But there was blood upon his breast and back,...
There was one thing to do. It was soon done.
But, Oh, the smell of blood upon my hands,
The chillness which had marbled the fair sky,
The hateful fire of hatred in my tears!
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