Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Eagle (Tennyson)

Personification via anatomy

Eagles have talons, not hands. Tennyson gives the bird human anatomy to emphasize grip and agency—this isn't passive perching but active grasping.

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

Visual paradox

The sea 'crawls' despite being vast and powerful. From the eagle's height, motion becomes slow and diminished—a reversal of expected scale that makes the bird's perspective godlike.

He watches from his mountain walls,

Simile timing

The comparison to a thunderbolt appears only in the final line. The sudden shift from stillness to violent action mirrors the eagle's own dive—the form enacts the content.

And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

Perspective and scale

This poem works entirely through the eagle's point of view, which Tennyson uses to invert normal spatial relationships. From the mountain, the sea becomes small and slow ('crawls'), and the sun—usually distant—is 'close.' By positioning us in the eagle's consciousness, Tennyson makes the reader experience radical elevation. The bird doesn't simply occupy space; it dominates and diminishes everything below.

Notice how the first stanza establishes stillness and dominion, while the second reverses into violent motion. The structure mirrors predatory behavior: patient observation followed by explosive descent. The 'thunderbolt' simile works because it's the only moment of speed in the poem—everything before it is held, watched, controlled.

Technical precision in a tiny space

CONTEXT Tennyson published this in 1851 as part of a larger work, but it survives as a standalone lyric. In just six lines, he demonstrates why Victorian readers considered him a master of form.

Every word earns its place: 'crooked' hands suggest both age and predatory fitness; 'azure' is the only color word and it frames the entire world; 'wrinkled' transfers human aging onto the sea. The rhyme scheme (ABA CBC) creates a tight, locked structure—nothing escapes. Most crucially, Tennyson avoids naming the eagle until the final line ('he falls'), forcing readers to recognize it through action rather than label. The poem teaches us to see like the bird sees before revealing what the bird is.