Crows that stand on the tops of pines
And flap their wings in the face of the sun
These have life and fling it to the winds;
These have life that is never done.
Great black crows on the tops of pines,
Flapping their wings at the golden sun
These will stand on the tops of pines,
And flap their wings till time is done.
For life is not a garment to be kept for best,
And washed with care lest its colors run.
Life should be flapped from the tops of days,
Like the wings of crows, in the face of the sun.
- Crows by E. Clark Stillman [1928]